Waiting through a Summer Storm


I hear the approaching thunderstorm.
I think of one day harvesting its energy.
Of the day making anew its form.

The condensation rising into the gray.
Impregnating new clouds
As the evening rounds
its way, into another hour.

As we crouch and hide inside shelter.
As we abstain from thinking we are greater.
As the lightning bolt claps itself into existence.

We are reminded that
We are all electrons.
Charged and let gone.
Your life.
Your family.
Your nation.
Our entire civilization.

Seemingly small.
As the thunder booms.
For the receptive
it creates new rooms.
for the human imagination.

To one day harvest its energy.
To one day, make it our slave.
To power cities.
To hide no more.

That is our destiny.

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