The Storm

I hear the sound of thunder crashing closely to the earth, I witness new creations, like flowers blooming in new birth. I cast a million stones across an endless sea of black, the stones will land submersed in sand halting their attack.


I hear the sound of thunder crashing and I’m no longer there, the water stained shadow of someone drenched in my chair. The forecast calls for rain today as it did the year before, strong winds will blow and before you’ll know, you’re soaked down to your core.

I hear the sound of thunder crashing faintly in my ear. I see it’s time the storms will pass but slowly, sticking near. I feel the moisture of the ground in every step I’ve found, I see regret in leaves unset strewed across the storm trodden ground.

I hear the sound of thunder crashing softly in my mind. I remember storms of epic scale still locked up and confined. I see the wreckage lying there as useless as before. I turn my head and look instead, to the storm outside my door.