Lightning crashes and the sky is violent and dark,
Veins of gold flash closer and closer to mark,
The feint outline of a tree in a field of silver.
Boulders jut from the earth as if shoved in by a greater force,
Giving the impression that we are not alone, that there’s another source,
Of virtue, of value, of life.
I know it’s just a myth, but I can’t help thinking how cool it would be to ‘be’,
Be the very thing that made it all, from the torrent of rain to the rough sea,
O’er the stone wall and away.
In the shade of branches, in the shade of the storm,
In the shade of the universe and its celestial form,
Is when I see the stars start to swarm.
They twist and spin leaving a glittering trail,
Guiding me home with wind in my sails,
And the energy to be, to ‘be’.