like the phosphorescent root system of a divine flower from the gardens of Valhalla,
a rare display of the powerful relationship between the elements.
As if a cantankerous child, the fingers of light prod at the apron of Mother Earth.
Paradoxical magic is lightning.
Its essence of electricity, both powerful and dangerous.
Effortlessly illuminating the blackest oceans of sky in an instant,
then vanishing, waiting, patiently and quietly in the darkness to strike again.
Buzzing with the seduction of power and provocatively smelling faintly of danger
radiant arteries surge across the horizon daring any man to capture the elemental divinity.
Zeus himself, God of Gods singularly, has dominion over lightning
employing its power as fiery spears of judgment to reign upon the unjust.
I stand in awe of its colossal brightness and beauty,
I kneel in respect of its destructive power.
May my life's indiscretions be not so offensive as to anger the heavens,
for one touch from these tentacles of brilliant light would certainly extinguish my own.
