The sound of thunder woke me up
from the slumber I had taken in music.
The night had been calm
and the lyrics made it more peaceful,
but as the roar of the sky continued on a scavenging streak,
I couldn’t help but observe.
I could define it as scary
looking over all the instantaneous discharges
with its deafening cry,
and the horizon colored in white and gray,
and black that seemed calmer and safer
than the light that pushed to tear everything apart.
I closed my eyes to let the voices guide me through
to a place where senses let me breathe
and obstruction let me have peace
from the terror that nature had for all,
and the blindness that the showers brought for us.
Was it safe?
I am alive, so maybe it was,
or maybe I was just lucky
being outside the circle of the graveyard
where the light kept striking on,
again and again and again.
I let the fog and the mist cover everything up
until all that light could do is brighten the blindness
and bring on the roar of the rage
that it held for its children on earth!
The droplets did seem beautiful,
sparkling in the tiny home they wished to find.
But every time moments were pushing to forget
of the clashes that were following,
light would follow
and everything would again start to feel dark.
In that moment, light brought terror and pain,
and pure hatred.
In that moment, light was all that was feared.