Like lightning in the distance,
you're a force I can't grasp,
can't fear nor admire.
I yearn to feel a zap,
a jolt of reality,
but I'm still standing under this lonely tree.

I've been searching for something like you,
and it seems like every time I catch a glimpse
I watch it vanish within the whisper of the wind.
It's like it never happened.

But it did.

I lay in bed
with someone who tells me
"you never give yourself up to love."
It kills me to admit
she's the most real thing I've ever had,
but the left side of the mattress
could just as soon
hold a vacancy I've always known.

The thunder calls out from the night sky,
and the clouds conceal those diamonds above.

I stare at a computer screen
wondering whether or not to pierce through the guarded unknown.
Some call it closure.
Some call it the path to pain.
I close the tab and find something else to dwell on.

It's just a name,
a title.
It's not like I'm the only one who feels this way.
But we all know you don't need to be isolated to feel alone.

Shortly before becoming the same,
I'll understand the difference between a storm
and a passing rain.
One day I may be the lightning,
cradling the thunder
and light the way through the clouds.

Until then,
I'll lay under this tree
and watch its leaves get carried off by the wind.

I've always known
That I'd die in a car accident
Someway
Somehow,

And beneath the
Silent flicks of lightning
Stretching across
A plaster sealed sky,

The world stood still,
Molded out of clay
And gasping for air
Like a drizzled flower petal
Suspended in time,

For a moment so fleeting
It nearly escaped me,
I hoped some drunken
Speeding car
Would smash right into me,

For once not because of the
Complexity and dismemberment of it all,

But because I was okay with dying
In some moment where it all made sense.

being struck by lightning
what a sentiment
we think of you as this beautiful destructive force
and you are
but is the electrocution
worth it to taste
that sticky sweet acid
or what about the
searing of flesh in a shattered pattern
branching out
reaching
just like I am to you...

The cicada revealed itself to me.
Gray to the touch,
Streamlining itself into oval curves,
To cooperate with the summer storms.
I listened to the tangy air.
Watched as they organized their flight
And as they disappeared
With their flowery baggage
All while lightning struck the air.

i look up at the sky
to see a flashing light.
4 and a half secods later,
thunder disturbs the quiet night;
the storm is yet far away,
and so are you.
you never liked thunderstorms;
i can only hope that now, you do.

Never once was the power just mine,
but the fellows and positivity of our oidins
                realm that lingers before us.

The people of Asgard were the battery
that powered every aspect that battled
           the insecurities of faulting races.

My sons thought that objects were there
        strength, but it was always with the
                                 confides of each other.
Power is within never externally pondering.


Within my last ventures my children will
             find a strength that builds walls against
             the onslaught of what collects against us.

Never falter my  kin of old,
             let us breath new life within the realms
that have lost hope, for lightening can strike twice.


"When the hammer shall fall, even though broke
                  nothing shall waver the brotherhood forged"

The lightning pierced through the window
Reminds me of how you and i met.
I started counting the seconds.
One, two, three, four, five-

You are a lightning.
An unexpected arrival, blinding
I can't help but close my eyes
six, seven, eight, nine, ten-

You are a strike of light,
Temporarily stays, then you're gone
Even before i open my eyes
eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.

The thunders roared,
An idea strucked into my mind.
The gap between the lightning and thunder,
Is like the gap of you and me.

The place of sky's turmoil
is far from where i stay.
And so are you,
Far and unreachable from where i am.

The feelings rush
when lightning dashed,
A poem is ought to make
but there's no pen to take.

Remember the thought
Before it drifts away.
The clouds fought,
thunders had something to say.

As the dark clouds fade,
the unwritten words were washed away.
I'll wait until a thuderstorm come,
Until then.

in the heat of a thunderous twilight storm
like a child swallowed by fear i
clung onto my stuffed toys
i asked them if everything would be okay
if the sun will come out tomorrow morning
and the rest of the mornings after
even if the storm continues to brew in darker places than the night
and the rain pours but not from the sky
my little fingers held big fears but
i have to grow up
so i wont have to rely on my toys
and so i can properly grip those fears of mine

A pungent petrichor,
The kind to remind you of why you are here.
I was told it is a sign of rebirth.
Deeply lodged axe wounds burrow into the ground below,
And sedimentary formations climb into the open wounds.

You get told to lie deadly still if the bear is large,
And create thunderous uproar if you have a bulkier countenance.
Survival of the fittest, huh?
If lightning is nature taking *** shots at something smaller than it,
I fear to high heaven what it’s hiding from when the skies are clear and I’m relishing in a light of false protection.