on the nature of a storm
a strange sort of quiet to be found
when all the world goes dark
and water lashes at your windowpane.
a solitude so vast
you'd swear you're the only one in the world
feeling this odd mix of fear and excitement
of anticipation and dread
all rolled into one being.
in this silence
there is no other noise
but the steady throbbing of the rain
and the percussive thunder of the air tearing.
in this stillness
all that is left is a shifting, muted half-light
that has sifted through patches of shade and blurred water
to reach me
and to remind me—
there are things much greater than i.