“Why are you waiting for the thunderstorms?” she asked.
How could I not? I answered.
Because the moments before a thunderstorm are a precipice where the whole world holds its breath.
Because when it comes, it comes with a torrent of rain. It doesn’t tap at the windows, it knocks hard enough to make music.
Because the space between the lightning and thunder is where god would exist, and the thunder itself is the moment before fear, the moment of fear, and the moment after fear, all rolled into one glorious sound.
Because it is Noah’s flood. Because It is purifying and terrifying and beautiful in the way only terrible and great things can be.
Thunder is where sweet ecstasies arise, are they not d’jaevle…Even still, I think of you with each thunderstorm…
Great and terrifying things are beautiful, aren’t they?