Storm

We have always been like one of those storms that people try to stay out of. The ones that are so beautiful to watch, but devastating outside of shelter. You know the ones? The ones that mesmerize people with their destruction, the ones that demand attention, the ones that strike fear. The storms that gray the skies, and electrify the night. The storms birthed from the collision of hot and cold; they become like oil and water, and when temperatures butt heads they build, and they roar loudly as they wrestle each other around and around, and the process of building electrifies skies in a dance that people can't look away from. Some people become so infatuated with storms like us, that they gear up to chase the storm.

I would chase us.

We are beautiful. We are powerful, and we are scary and our different temperatures have always clashed into something so mesmerizing, something beautifully electrifying. We are the kind of storm that cracks the skies, and pours emotions to the concrete that people walk on below us. We are the kind of storm people can't help but stand in.

I would stand in us.

I would let the rain soak me to the bone, let it roll down my cheeks and across my lips. I would listen to the thunder deafen my soul and hear the story it tells every time it speaks. I would applaud its stage presence, even if I were the only audience and I would ask for an encore after the hairs on my arms stand down from the electricity in the air. I would dance to the sound of the rain slapping the concrete around me, because storms like us are the kind that awaken the pieces of people that forgot how to be childlike. Storms like us are the ones that draw people out to watch the beauty because the words to describe it will never be there. We are the kind of storm that beautifully silences our watchers, the kind that makes music just from our natural reactions.

Our temperatures may be much different, but a storm like us doesn't exist without the difference.