Thunderstruck Soul

A monster, seething
Looming across the sky
Coiled with unspent violence
Its growl, low and building
And bursts of crackling white

Air currents swirl, hurling rain and ice
Destructive shards raining down,
Rumbling, slow— / bone-deep vibration.
There’s a heaviness felt in the chest
Breathing in super-charged air
Pin pricks of current tingle the skin
With the effervescent glow of St. Elmo’s Fire

The air itself, its own worst enemy
Freeing an electrical cascade
That cracks the skies
Leaving that petrichor scent
Of ozone, sharp and acrid

There’s no tempest in a teacup
For the tempest-bound.
For only a thunderstruck Soul
Would understand the need
To feel that growling reverberation
Rolling across the skies
Taking joy in crackling fingers of white heat
That cleave the atmosphere
In sudden streaks of blinding light
Shattering the firmament
And striking the ground