Myth - imagery

The clouds rolled in, like an army of dark dense cotton plant balls ready to release hell on anything in, or at a lower place their path. They plagued the sun with a disease of darkness, allowing no natural illumine to grace the earths surface with its warmth. I sat watching. Just waiting for the first drop, the ice cold, burning little drop that would settle down from the lurch and kiss my forehead. I was sitting on a swing at the park, that squeaked ever so slightly as the wind pushed by back and forth gently. I watched and listened to the silence. Everyone was interior hiding. Buried under backs and quilts praying that everything would be ok. They were weak. I was brave. My nerves were wire, and zilch wore them down. The impulses raced through my body and my hair stood on end, but I wasnt scared, I was anxious. I valued the rain to fall. I precious to feel its damp cold drips soaking into my skin. I wanted to bathe in its presence; baptize myself in its unreserved beauty; and drink its thirst quenching liquid of life. The winds picked up, and the sky turned from a deep gray to a extortionate black. It looked deep, like I could drown in its vast organism vindicatory by staring into it hard enough. Lightning soared through the sky.



vertebral column the dark clouds like the stitching in a blanket; holding them all together as one. It was bright, blue and blank mixed into one, with that brilliant glow of electricity. Power. The power I would, just once like to sire. The power that is provided by nature, the rain, clouds and the lightning. So natural, however so strong, and soon I would be able to experience this power. I would be able to...

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