Your heart is the lightning capital of the country
In which your soul rests,
Whenever you hear a thunder inside yourself,
Your voice is ready to play.
It might be fun to keep track of your own storms:
Your lightning travels at the speed of inner glow
Or outward gloom,
There is always a distance
Between where the pain occurs and where it’s heard –
You can point out where the agony is right now,
But you hear where it was a little while ago.
When your thunder roars,
Go indoors. Stay and invite the loved one
To your lightning capital
To sit together by the window,
To read thunderclouds which are very tall
And which make your eyes impenetrable.