The world was tearing itself apart –
the screech of the wind was fierce and wild.
All around her was twisting and screaming,
and through it all, she smiled.

A single step: the sky clawed open.
Cruelty in its most beautiful form;

in the dark and the wet and the freezing,
she was the heart of the storm.

Long black ribbons unwound from her hair;
a face so young remained stony and still.
and those eyes were alive, electric, dead –
and those eyes were meant to kill.

Her bare feet flattened cold, thick mud
as she lay down on the rain-torn ground.
Her laughter was silent – or, perhaps, lost –
but there was never a more crooked sound.

Somewhere inside, warm lights were blushing,
voices bouncing, steady and sure.
Somewhere inside, up where she couldn’t reach,
they lived their lives without her.

Something coiled up within her,
something broken and bubbling and black.
Closing her eyes, she let it consume her,
and then there was no turning back.

She let go of the grass and felt herself lift;
swathed in thunder, she learned how to fly.
Rain pounded and pushed, wind scarred and surged,
but only she remained dry.

The sky was an ocean of electric dark,
live wires amid the liquid night.
But she breathed underneath, the most powerful nothing –
she was the fiercest light.