Thunder presses against the heavens,
a demand to be heard, be felt
on the fingertips of the
rain in a silent plea.
Lightning flashes against His sleeping
face..gentle as the breeze
that blows his expression.

He feels my ache, my
tears whispered against His calm..
He knows, he feels…

My soul yearns for the
person who waits in His
Rage lashes around in a
forbidden dance, my emotion in
the broken beams of sun
that fade against the grey…

Anger wails, and He rests,
but aware…
Blending with natures fury, sitting
like a God in Summers

Raindrops flutter against His exposed
face, eyes stilled into its
prism, mouth opened taking Heaven’s
He weathers a rainbow in
each dying day…

The sun shines through it’s
glorious rant, and He remains
among the trees, the many
faces that weep at evenings
release, awakening at dawns cleansing
breath, watching the days breathe
it’s many lives.

His face etched in lush
colors, His seasons, the eyes
of each that draws upon
His face…