There was a relief in feeling the storm’s approach

Silence held its own sound,

The inevitable buzz of tension,

And the cruelty of its existence,

In silence there is decay,

In silence there is lack of being,

An arrow before the plunge,

A held breath before the lunge,

An unpredictability that cannot be anticipated,

There’s truth in a storm’s approach,

It won’t deny you the information of its existence,

Neither what it seeks to accomplish,

What could be more honest than lightning?

Scarring the Earth in its wake,

What could be more deliberate than wind?

Rummaging through hearts?

What could be more cleansing than rain?

No, the storm doesn’t lie, it never will