Thunderstorms and certainties

There is something sensationally magical about a thunderstorm. Sinister almost, secretive, seductive, alluring, capturing my mind and soul in a mesmerising trance in which I remain the willing participant, seeking shelter to keep me safe, yet longing to be a part of it.

 

The sky, once blue, clouds over in ominous black within minutes, flashes of brilliant white flickering high up in the blanket of darkness enveloping the world, the thunder first whispers, rumbling in the background like a warning of what is to come.

 

 

Seconds later, the heavens start to cry excessive tears in repentance of the heat that has preceded it and the dark remedy it must now enforce to cool down the world below. The smell of scorched earth and dust mingles with the fresh scent of rain and renewal so that I can almost taste the desire of the earth to soak up all the water as it breaths porous breaths in the wind that howls.

 

The flickering flashes turn into bolts of lighting ostentatiously tumbling down, as if to take photographs of the spectacle that lasts mostly mere minutes. Haphazardly they come down and I cannot help but peer out of my window, as if I will somehow form part of the picture.

 

The thunder that murmured timidly at first, builds up to a deafening crackle, making all aware of its presence, tearing up that which was to make room for that which will come. It builds up like an unrequited love begging to be released from its prison. It at long last can no longer be contained and spills out over the lips of a lover which deals a deafening shift in reality obscured by the surreal.

I love thunderstorms. They are mighty, they are pure and real and unrestricted. They represent the best and worst of nature. They bring with them a passion and an unhindered truth, a promise of a fresh dawn and a moment of complete wonderment. They are unexpectedly humbling, forcing all my senses to awaken to my own place in the inevitable cycle of life. We live and we die. It’s as simple and as complicated as that. There is no uncertainty, no second chances, and no exceptions. Yet, if we’re lucky, we may just experience some enchantingly magical moments in between those two fixed marks which make it all worth while.

 

Thunderstorms… definitely one of those thrilling moments for me.

 

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