Into The Roiling

What is it to watch a lightning storm from the height of a plane

Over an unknown midwestern state

The brilliant orange flashes 

Streaking down to the awed inhabitants below

The dense clouds

Briefly illuminated 

By the turmoil in the skies

And what is it to wonder how it would feel

To be in a plane that decided to fly straight through those clouds 

Roiling with electricity

To be both inside and insulated from the great storm

To know that the calamity of the clouds

Could rock the plane straight to the ground

Into devastation

And what is it to look around the plane

And see that the fellow passengers have not even noticed the storm brewing in the clouds outside

Nor have they noticed the storm raging within me

The electricity of all things known and unknown clashing into one another

Creating flashing sparks 

Threatening to bring the whole aircraft down

And what is it to love the storm

Both inside and out

Its power

Its violent beauty

Its cleansing ability

Its eternal forgiveness

And what is it to be the storm, in your own life and the lives of others

Are you loved

Are you wanted

Are you seen as an inevitable avenue of change and growth

Or simply viewed as a harbinger of destruction

And what is it to be sad when the storm has passed

When you look out your window and no longer see those angrily enchanting flashes of light

And see nothing but clear night sky

When you look into your heart and no longer see those billowing clouds of angst

And see nothing but a bright soul, scrubbed clean by the rolling thunder