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Submitted on
June 13, 2012
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Rain is pouring, lightning falls
In streaks of violet-blue
But thunder never follows
Countdowns never cease
A thousand cries
Never heard by human ears
Incomplete
Why is it that this incompletion seems so familiar?
As if the absence exists somewhere near?
Could perhaps I be compared to the lonely lightning flash
Seen, yet lacking voice
Or perhaps lacking ears to listen
But I think, like the lightning with no voice
There are those who wait, to listen
And like thunder
My voice will be heard in a resounding boom
Moving stuff from old account to here.
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