As the thunder screams its ceaseless tantrum outside,
I find it is using my voice.
The chaos of this rainstorm
is a mirror of my thoughts.
I feel its power raging inside me.
We are one.
We are afraid.
We are sad.
The power pulses through me,
and like the falling rain,
unearths the turmoil
just beneath the surface.
Though the dark clouds threaten
my hard-won peace,
It is the thunder
that keeps its promise.
I am laid bare.
All my confusion and fear
roar in one loud cry,
and I am afraid I will crack
with the lightning.
But as the rain stops
and the sun takes back the sky,
I find the turmoil subsides,
and I can again show myself to the world.
Why is the sun praised
and the thunder feared?
In the sun, my face is bright and clear
and there is a quiet calm.
The sun is the mask we wear.
I miss the thunderstorm as it fades away.
For though it stirs up all my intense emotion
it is my friend.
It tells me who I am
and what I must face.
Only the thunder knows me
and sees behind my mask.
It is the thunder that sees my soul..
And as it roars,
it is my voice.
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