Lightning strikes upon the earth,
Lightning strikes the few,
Ideas to trample on themselves,
In light of morning dew.
Light proceeds in darkened dawn
And wraps itself inside
There are but few who hear the clap
Of thunder by my side.
The roof shakes down upon my head
And wakes me from my sleep
I know the passing of the day
Is all that I will keep.
Rhymes will form, they always do,
Within my feeble mind,
To understand the things above
For that my thoughts do pine.
With wrinkled brow and passing skin
I seek to see and know
Of how the ever markets work
And passage in the snow.
I hope to be one of the few
That lightning strikes and live
To tell of glory seen and heard
And to the world I’ll give.
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