Awaiting the Thunder

I sought shelter in an earthquake–I was told to stand firm and cling to what I know to be strong, and at the same time to allow the ground to shift under my feet and to follow, even pursue, its flow. Thus determined, I have stood in a thrashing wind to watch the symbol of freedom pass by, ushering me into an unfamiliar landscape of steel and glass. I have reveled in the ecstasy of music, both symphonically complex and acoustically simple, as well as in the harmonic silence of unspoken agreement. I have heard the pounding water against a cherry blossom rain and moved forward by walking in circles.

I have endured a heart-stopping lightning strike and yet stood in wondrous anticipation of the accompanying thunder. I have agonized over pain both past and present, for the first time seeing intricate purpose in haphazard events. I have slept and dreamt then woken and dreamt and sometimes wondered if I didn’t have the two mixed up. I have watched as the colors of my world blended and morphed, draining from previous masterpieces in order to paint beautiful hues across what used to be a formless greyscale portrait.

Will the transfiguration continue? Will there be enough pigment to fill the canvas? Will reality continue to take on the form of a dream or will the poetry fade and this expression be relegated to the embarrassment of overdone sentimentality? In the absence of time travel or divine revelation, there is only one way to know the future: live it.

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