storm

forked lightning

cuts waves of light across the black sea

whispering in the language of

explosions.

booms are the drum beat

to the music of rain,

turning the sky into a canvas

of white and black,

light and dark,

peace and chaos,

or maybe peace and chaos

are one and the same,

not as opposite as we thought.

let the clouds roll in,

painting the sky in a rainbow of grey.

lightning bolts are the fingers,

pulling open the fluff

like they're ripping open cotton candy

and spilling drops of liquid sugar

down to the ground waiting hungrily below.

i watch this peaceful chaos from my room,

peeling my curtains away from my window,

laughing at the static dancing between my fingertips,

enjoying the miniature storm i can create

from the safety of my home.