The sun peaks behind clouds

and the rain falls

as softly as rain can on days like this.

These are my days.

Where my hand

spreads across the sky.

I let my tears fall.

The sky may be clearing,

yet surprised and baffled you

see my sunny smile

warming your face.

And I feel it all.

The sadness, the joy,

in equal measure.

I am those days

where the sky rains,

yet the sun shines.

I am the conundrum

all humans have experienced,

at one time or another.

And that scientists have explained,

but the world still

does not understand.

And maybe I could bridge the gap.

Maybe I could let you see

only one emotion at a time.

Yet my whole body and mind seem incapable of allowing this to happen.

If I was a part of the sky

that is so big, so vast, so beautiful.

This would be me.

This would be all of me.

stagnant air, humid, stuffy,

No wind for at least a week,

The fallen leaves wait,

Wait for what?

No one knows.

Maybe waiting to be swept away,

But they won't,

Walking outside,

Feels like honey covers you ,

As you struggle to pull your feet,

And take steps,

The sun raises the air in the distance,

But even the mirage, is too lazy,

The blue of the sky, taunt,

The air-conditioning cloggs and freeze,

Eyelids close in the middle of traffic,

And everywhere ,

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

In a total lack of conviction.

They call me Lightning. I strike hard and shine like a burning, devastating whip, and am fast and unpredictable. I can reach you wherever you are, regardless of the forms I take, which are two. One visible and one invisible, which is after your soul, not after your body, and does not care if the effect is lethal or not, and goes by the name of Love.

Oh to be a thunderstorm; all boisterous and theatric...

Alas, I'm past the prime for that; aye, almost geriatric.

A blizzard then? A raging wind to vanquish all your foes!

(I tried to be ice-cold once and I barely froze a nose...)

A drought perhaps? A scorching heat to plague the dead of night!..

(Not a chance. I've not the nerve to bring about such plight...)

In that case then I must be fine; a lovely autumn day?

A gentle breeze against the skin to send you on your way?

No! I'm just a drizzling damp! A dreary muddy rotter!

At best a mild nuisance; could be colder, could be hotter...

But weather is a fickle thing,

And so's my bitter mood...

You'll never know by forecasting

To rug up or go nude.

It is I who blows across the wildflowers in the field.

It is I who whispers in the trees.

It is I who makes the dust cloud swirl.

It is I who calls across the prairie at night.

It is I who tells you secrets on warm spring days.

It is I who helps you fly your kite.

It is I who sings you to sleep.

It is I who is calm.

It is I who can swiftly destroy.

It is I who makes the windmills twirl.

It is I who can rock the baby's cradle,

It is I who can blow down trees.

It is I who you long for in summer.

It is I who you dread in winter.

It is I... The Wind