That is the fury, the lightening is the pain. Just enought to peirce skin deep.
If it's deeper, i'm sorry.
It's not ment to strike that deep, i don't want to cause more pain than there already is... but you've left me with no other recourse.
I have nothing but the acid in my words, to act as lightening.
Your actions have left me with no choice.
There's no thunder, no signs of a storm from you. You leave me with a clear sky, an empty one devoid of clouds. What is someone to do with a clear sky?
One can not photograph it for it has no depth to it, all it is, is light. The film would be over exposed, destroying a so called perfect clear sky.
When in reality a perfect sky is one with color and light differences.
I am filled with all those differences. You can see who i am in the sunsets and sunrises where i live. I am that place, where i am, is who i am.
You, you are in a different horizon.
We were close to one in the same... once. Now, no more.
Two seperate horizons.
Both competing for it's own beauty.
You for the clear sky.
Me for the rain and storms.
Your eyes reflect that of sky blues. I, i have always called my eyes that of storms. Changing yellowish specks like lightening.
Both of us were content once, with two climates one in the same. Each passing with a season.
But now... now there is time between us. Two horizons instead of one.
Nothing but wind has discussed what has gone wrong. Silent wind.
I changed that. I brought a storm wind, one not willing to give up. You and your clear sky have defences unseen by me. My storm wind can blow and twist in and amongst its gales, but they will only float over you.
I will fight, yes, but your defences are of your own. I can not fight battles within one's climate.
I will fight for that one climate, but lightening and thunder shall be my voice.
Each will strike deep.
But maybe not so deep, that our dream of one horizon will not fade.
For even at a stand still, there are solutions.
Even a storm can break into a clear sky.
chez