Thunderstorm

There is a thunderstorm outside my window. I am in awe of it. Here I sit, so small… so little. And beyond this pane of glass crashes a world of wonder and mighty power, tearing the heavens apart and rebuilding them with charcoal clouds. The rain pours down, a sacred thing, slucing through the branches of quivering trees, driving its way deep down to the heart of the earth as it rolls off blades of grass and car windows in a seemingly random dance. (The greatest secret – nothing is truly random.)

I feel awake… alive. The cup of tea in my hand is warm, as warm as the metal of my worn necklace… as warm as the coming air. Everything is a feast for my senses as I take in the storm and thank Goddess for this.

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