I await the thunder,
I await the rain.
I await the storm,
to ease my pain.
Dark, roaming clouds,
and hot, gentle winds.
Livewire air,
to which I'm akin.
Am I born of this thunder,
Am I born of this rain?
Does this storm call me closer,
because it is born of my pain?
Does the thunder cry my name,
Is that why I can hear it?
I've known all along,
I was born from it's spirit.














Comments
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"The virtuous man is content to dream what the wicked man does." "Any man may easily do harm, but not every man can do good to another." "For a man to conquer himself is the first and noblest of all victories." - Plato
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Able to lay paw in the shadow but still see ones reflection in the light of the moon
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