The sky is wailing:
He's crying, and he yells in rage.
A bolt of lightning,
Like an that incisor rips through the sky.
What terror lies beyond there?

And yet,
All i see is beauty in its rawest form.

When the storm begins to calm,
The first glimpse
Of the introverted sun,
Signals the world below the clouds
To exhale
Like a harmonious lullaby would calm
A frightened infant.

I know,
The prismatic effect of light passing through droplets of rain,
Creates a spectrum of colours to form,

And yet,
every time i see that faint rainbow
After a tenacious storm
It still feels like magic.