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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1533889-The-Storm-of-sound
by tony
Rated: ASR · Other · Emotional · #1533889
The rain is so hard its sound fills the air.
The Storm of sound


I look to the horizon and see ominous bellows coming from a distance. I am reminded of your power by the sight of this massive storm. And I think that one might fear the turmoil brought on by damaging winds and beating rain, but I see something much different.
As the skies begin to fill with clouds that roll with colors of blues and greens, they begin to create such depths as they flow to their blending. Exploring each other through their vapors and mists then pressed together by the wind. They are the colors of an artist’s canvas, changing with every stroke.
Its afternoon, the sky is painted as the sun passes into dusk. The storm has cut a dividing line like raging armies bent on war. It is large and dominating with a great force. The sky is ripped into.
I see your eyes in the storm.
What time of day does not matter and all things become aware of their following submitting. A musky sent descends from the sky. It is a fragrance like no other. Beyond life and beyond death its power captures the attention of all.
It’s the fragrance created by the thunder and the lightning.
The rain begins to fall, touching the earth with dominating force. The drops of rain fill the air causing broad vision to narrow. The storm is here, and though every part of me screams search for shelter, still I do not. I need to feel the rain upon my face.
Its 1am. The rain is so hard its sound fills the air. It presses its way into the earth saturating its soil and creating smooth puddles. With a surface so smooth it reminds me of the sound of your words. They press their way deep into my ear. I am taken back by the power that I see. It fills my vision and captures my every thought. The sound of the thunder has entered the rhythms of my heart. Forcing it faster, harder. The massive sound, stabs through the air. It’s the sound of horse drawn wagons clamoring through a covered bridge made of wood and tin.
It is so easy to see these things in your eyes.
I am blessed by the life I have spent studying their many depths. The thought of them moves me.
I embrace the swift moving storm that has moved upon me. I feel it. It brings me comfort.
You are the fuel that feeds this raging emotion. You create brilliance and wonder. The secret of things not heard nor understood.
It is late in the morning; the storm has been here for hours as the winds continue their winding paths. They have not let up, either has the sound of lightning as it streaks faster than sound through the night. The constant flicker becomes entrancing. This is the music to the dancing drops of rain.
I need to feel the thing I long for, the gentleness of your touch. I have counted every second we have been separated. My flesh is drowned by the waves of water, carried on the force of your wind. When we are together there is not a place on my body that I could not feel you.


Even now I feel you. You are so close to me, my love. The sound of your words has become the music to my life. I embrace you and we begin to dance. Our bodies, once separate, are now urging to touch. It’s like the feeling of the rain.
© Copyright 2009 tony (tonyschelling at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1533889-The-Storm-of-sound