Zeus’s reign His livelyhood Our destruction He lives above the clouds Throwing his bolt down below The cold rain feels like glass as it pours To run from it is to shield yourself from the beauty in front of you If you run, you are to fall You cannot escape the rain Zeus’s reign His livelyhood Your destruction My beauty You wish to float the above clouds with Zeus No You can’t appreciate his gift You run You hide We embrace What are you scared of? You aren’t cold from the rain You were cold to begin with Zeus’s gift You turn and wish he gave you gold Not rain Be appreciative Learn You will warm in time What are you scared of?

The wind, rough and brisk and the sky a lifeless dark gray, as if the warmth had been drained from it’s previously calm demeanor. There is a war in the heavens and I can feel the tears of the angels on my skin. The overwhelming crashes pierce my ears as I wonder what could ever cause such beautiful chaos. Their agony seeps deep into my chest as my breath harmonizes with the whistling air. I wonder what they’re fighting for, and I pity the passion behind their cries. I look to the heavens, to the clouds that circle around me intertwining with the tree tops. The heavens are at war, but oh it’s so beautiful. They’re fighting, but with so much devotion. And all for me, so I may endure this moment and see What a beauty even agony can be.

The sky is electric. Flashes of bright light create glinting porcelain cracks among the heavy gray clouds. Harsh, freezing drops soak through his clothes, pierce into his blinking eyes like daggers. Rivers of murky water run under his feet like the ghoulish veins of the cobblestoned street. He almost screams, but he cannot stand the sweet taste of the rain. Desperately choking back sobs, he drags his muddy feet through the growing puddles. A dark and stormy night, he thinks bitterly. How fitting for this to be the backdrop for his suffering. How very _literary _for a_ _heartbroken man to be walking alone in a monochrome city, on a dark and stormy night. He spits, wiping his dripping face with his sleeve. The clouds rumble and roar, producing discordant sounds that reverberate through the air and his skull. Violent rain continues to drum against his waterproof hood. It is as if God is weeping right along with him.

As the sky darkens, ominous clouds gather like a heavy blanket, swirling with shades of deep gray and almost black. A sudden gust of wind rushes through, carrying the scent of damp earth and anticipation. The air crackles with energy, sending a shiver down my spine, as I can feel the tension building around me. The first crack of lightning illuminates the landscape, briefly revealing the silhouettes of trees, their branches dancing wildly in the fierce gusts. Moments later, the thunder booms, a deep rumble that resonates through my chest, making the ground tremble beneath my feet. Rain begins to pour, relentless and heavy, drumming against roofs and splashing into puddles, creating a symphony of sound that drowns out the world. The colors around me deepen; the grass turns richer, water pooling in small, glistening lakes that reflect the darkening sky. Each drop against my skin is refreshing yet overwhelming, a rush that stirs both exhilaration and unease. I feel alive in this moment, caught between awe and dread as nature unleashes its power. As the storm rages on, I find my thoughts swirling like the winds above. There’s a beauty in the chaos, a reminder of the raw forces at play. The mood shifts internally, as fear mingles with wonder, and I can’t help but feel a part of this intense, swirling spectacle, both humbled and invigorated by its formidable presence.

Our car is at a standstill on the pavement. Headlights can be seen from behind us, but they are slowly dimming. We are unsure of how far back they are, or if there is anyone else in front of us, because of the water streaming from the sky like tears off a betrayed lover’s face. If we had a sunroof, we might be able to look up and see chaos, but instead, we can peer through the windows on the truck and match the wind to the intense pitter-patter of beads streaming on the glass. Every so often there is a loud roar, like a lion far from their pride, and a sharp flash of yellow light, as if the lion shook their mane. Besides that, though, we sat still, waiting - unsure.

I always knew this would be the cost of sailing, but I never imagined it would be so high. She rocked back and forth, ready to collapse any moment now. But we, her children, wouldn’t let her. The storm raged against her, but we dared not let her go. The clouds sought to strike her down with their might, but we dared not let her go. The hard rain tried to stone her, pushing her to her limit, but we dared not let her go.

I should have expected it really, with the way it felt too humid, and the weather reports, of course. But round here, aways way out of the nearest town and even further from the city, the weather reports predictions were more wrong than right. When I heard thunderstorm, I thought of rain and nothing more. We didnt get too much of that, thankfully. I didnt think id be hearing thunder louder than any I’ve heard before though, or to see lighting striking concerningly near. It was bad luck that I had turned down a ride back home from the market, opting to walk back instead. Now I was finding my way through water running along the lanes, reaching past my ankles, with just jeans and a jacket on. Id thought about taking a shortcut through thr fields, but with all this rain it would be both muddy and slippery without any sort of cover. It was hard enough seeing through my dripping-with-rain lenses. By this point, I wasnt even sure where I was. I knew I was on the lane leading home, but I wasnt sure how far along. With the elements at hand, there wasnt much I could do but keep walking through the bitter air and stinging rain until I saw the familiar glow of the outlights.

The sky was dark and wind whipped through the remaining orange, red, and yellow leaves clinging to the branches of their oak or maple trees. There were flashes of light and loud cracks of thunder coming closer and closer. Goose bumps formed on my skin but I didn’t know if they were from the icy drops of rain or the impending danger in the skies. I sped up to hurry home and watch the light show through the windows while the fireplace roared in the background.

Standing Soaking wet here… Gray sky applauses me! Umbrella left at home brings woe.

Henrietta pulled her cloak tighter around her throat, and stepped out from the safety of the alcove into the thunderous roar of the storm as it enveloped the city streets. Father’s coach was due to return to collect her at the conclusion of the party, but she could not bare to stay a moment longer. She had come to Cunningham’s ball hoping for a night of thrills, romance. A night to demonstrate who she was as a woman, a figure on the social scene, a potential wife. What she had gotten was humiliation. She dared not stay, but without her coach, the path to leave was dismal and nearly as horrid as the scene she was leaving behind. Almost, but not quite. The puddles had already started to collect in the crevices of the cobblestones on Queen Street as Henrietta stepped out of the shadows and looked up Queen Street towards the battery. When she had first made her flight from the house, she had envisioned storming home right along with the the wind. Standing now exposed to the elements, she saw the folly in that plan. She would have to wait for her driver after all, but if anyone from the party were to see her, she would be even more mortified than she was at present. She glanced around the street from underneath her hood, trying to make out a place to wile away the time until she would be collected and could return home with her dignity intact.