The Storm

As you walk in the rain, with your head bent to the ground,
the cold wind lashes you, you can barely stand steady;
the chill rain is a full frontal attack, your eyes cannot see;
and the thunder sounds like the reflection of an earthquake.
The strikes of lightning make your head jerk up,
and you stop walking, and stand, and breathe underwater;
the familiar street changes around you, as you see the water hit your eyes,
and in a moment of clarity, you see the stars glowing straight through the rain;
your world falls away, and you are alone,
alone on the slope of a mountain beside the sea;
the wind lashes the waves, and the water pounds against the cliffs,
you tremble at how fierce your joy can be;
and your senses scream to you to run with the wind,
to take to the sea and the wind with a running jump off the cliff,
a free fall that will never end, a whirlpool of the elements that embrace you.
If you ever had a soul, the stars call to it now,
and it wakens, and yearns, and strains to the maelstrom sky;
it tries to soar to the vast nothingness beyond the storm,
but you are afraid, and your soul won't fly away without you.
You reach up on your toes, and you stand like a dancer in the rain;
the wind tears your breath away, and your heart is at peace at last.
The rain dies, and the wind slows, and the stars' fury fades,
you are left drained by the spirit of the storm.
You return to the empty street with the single flickering light,
as you start walking again, your hands feel empty;
you look down and there is a heart sized hole in your chest,
and as your joy fades away and then comes back stronger,
you know your heart lies bleeding on a cliff beside the sea,
and when the blood of your heart runs with the rain into the storm,
the storm reaches the stars, and then your blood colours the sky.