the storm was audible
before it presented itself in all its destructive glory
swallowing the sounds of their nervously beating hearts.
the approaching noise was unfamiliar;
not just plain thunder
but the anger and frustration of all greek gods.

knowing they should seek saving shelter,
curiosity carved them in sleek marbel
as dark clouds marched to zeus' beating drums.

staring at the beauty of the possibility of chaos,
hypnotized by a mixture of grey and black,
they thought of what comes after:
the calm, the peace, the reconstruction of the destroyed.

lightning crept dangerously close.
their hearts beating so fast, it hurt.
they shared one last passionate look
as they fell to the ground for an infinite second.

struck by the epiphany,
they quietly whispered:

t
       h
                e

         s
     t
o
       r
               m

         i
     s

u
     s