Fumbling words in the night sky,
Like thunder in the broadest storm.
So you will go down in historic mind,
As not very bright.

Though the stroke of lightning might be me,
You were like thunder above the trees,
Loud, assertive and absolute,
But never available to be seen.

I'm glad such sound was not for me,
And that you passed like a summers night.
Because I have no need for rumbling voice,
Or an ominous noise devoid of light.