For They Speak With Thunder

I stand barefoot eyes open sometimes closed but as I stare into the grey abyss that deluges rain and its oh divine potent power. It is cogent that we are mere cells of a bigger picture in the eyes of something wiser and older than time. I see the birds fly in a perfect circle as if it is the crown of a powerful being gratifying its presence and that it has heard our prayers. I only catechize and exhort for an answer what hands push the droning wall of grey mass halting everything in time. We are his loyal fireflies we are his altruistic doves.