How To Be Happy
And Get What You Want
Thunder
Behold the power of God, whose laughter is the rolling thunder and who paints as a canvas the morning sky.
Who once the work of creation was done caused the earth to shudder with his sigh of contemplation.
His thoughts cause mountains to rise and fall with time like a babies chest with each sweet breath.
A clap of thunder moves through my soul like the bass note in the chorus of life.
Each clap of power rushes over and through, relaying history from the past and foreshadowing the future.
Constant and same since the beginning of time.
The rain falls and then pools like a symbolic collective of humanity and trickles off in many streams as each drop fulfills its own path and purpose.
Tree’s bow and quake in the wind of onrushing power, knowing their place in the order of things and honoring the presence of their creator.
The stiff and rigid in demeanor that defy the storm get beaten down and burned for their pride and arrogance.
The body of the storm moves as one amongst the chaos of the lightening that streaks across the sky; like millions of nerve impulses cascading and guiding the appendages of a pulsing leviathan.
My body feels distant as my soul is loosed upward, twisting and twirling amongst the clouds.
I am charged with the energy of life.
 With arms outstretched I spin in place, suspended between opposing fields of electrons miles above the earth.
A sense of awe encompasses my being as I dance with the storm, and watch the power of creation and destruction unfold.
 As the storm moves off, the power dissipates while the swirling winds carry my soul back to the earth from where I came.
No longer a part of the synchronicity, I sit passively and watch as the tail of the goliath swishes down the last drops of perspiration from its great effort.
The tree’s spring up from their bowed stance and shoot straight towards the sky in a service of praise to the beauty that now radiates from above.
The furious anger has departed and now a caring father hugs his offspring with the warmth of the afternoon son.
