The Storm

In the distance
The impending storm clouds
Crawl forward, dressed in black
Traveling alone
Exiled
 
The wide eyes of the child
Home to both;
Curiosity and terror
Gaze through bedroom windows
 
The first clap of thunder
Rings.
Then echoes through the sky
Before finally disintegrating
Atop of perked ears
 
Lightning illuminates the heavens
Giving us a glimpse of the Lord’s kingdom
As the phosphorous pink glow
Tumbles, hurling
To the fenced edges
Of the stars above
The envy of imagination, glowing
Before us
Dwelling in unblinking eyes
 
Yet amid the furious expression
Birthed in the eye of the storm
Slowly, carefully, this child
Begins to rise
Removing the blanket
From the top of his head
 
The thunder which now resides
Over the shimmering shingles of the roof
Reflects lightning: Nirvana’s mirror
Yet becomes slowly humbled
By the floorboards creaking
Beneath the child’s quick, trotting steps
Towards the window
 
He looks on.
The lightning, which scared him so
Now dwelled within
Eyes wide open
Until blue eyes spilled with the yellow
Left behind in lightning’s wreckage
Spilling across the cosmos
As though mimicking Apollo’s legacy
 
The child peered forth
One lightning bolt at a time
Until the burdens of curiosity
Erupted within him
 
As rain fell, each drop
A slave to gravity
Crashed
The child became engulfed
By an amalgam of emotion
Until
 The careful feet
Which sunk into floorboards
Found themselves dancing
In the mud.
The cries of parents
Now, fading amid the roaring thunder
 
And abandoned heartbeat
Now soared.
Serving as metronome
For excitement unparalleled;
 
For the first time obedient
To the music
Of formal education