He Speaks

The world rid with filth, might ought to give it a rinse. I am a vision that does not make any sense. Oddly shaped, not symmetrically put together. A crackling voice that does not calm the weather. The clouds collide, when I come cracking down. The skies light up, and the earth shakes the ground. My wrath is almighty, its fierce and loud. There is nothing quite like my obscure sound. I give you opportunity and you close the door. I am the voice of GOD in which you chose to ignore. Optional