I stand aloft and call the thunder from the skies. Lightning crashes in return. All is still, a quiet electric nothingness that fills me with hope . . . . Then the voice of God crashes upon me, deep and unintelligible. It rumbles across the sky, uncountable drums in incessant beat. A cracking sound of broken truth, broken in the name of God.
Now the rain pelts down like silver blood. It pours across my face, in my ears, my mouth, my eyes, then runs down my body, soaking me, making me wet and wretched, then washes my hands of itself.
Who am I that I understand this? A blue flash turns the world into horrid reverse, where light is dark and dark is light, then all is dark. Another flash and I can see my face filled with pockets and shadows and blue, sickly flesh. The rumble calls in return.
And still the rain pelts down. It fills me. I stare up at it, blinded by brilliant electric flashes that burn across the sky, random, chaotic, and controlled. I call the thunder and it answers. I call it down and it crashes around me, powering at my beck and call. It echoes me and I rain down upon the world, my blood dripping silver.
My world consists of silver and blue. I crash upon the world. I break my own truths.
I am tired, but the rain continues.
Only the water is heard.
-TCS