This storm is raging.
The small ocean forming outside my bedroom window seems to be growing.
Maybe it will pick this entire room off the ground & sweep me away.
Maybe it will head that way?
I've scattered pots & buckets across the floor,
collecting the uninvited rivers flooding this room.
Some shelter, huh? Lightening cracks again. Awesome.
Powers out. Everything's out, as far as i can see.
Dead center of the lightening capital of the world
& I just lit my last two tealights.  
The lightening, strobeing bright enough to illuminate the words that are drenching my paper.
"...by stormy windows light, I'll read to you & you to me, our most sacred notebook pages.
& oh how ******* beautiful that storm would be."