Thunder and silence and...

         The storm came in the early hours of the morning. I heard her loud voice in the dreamy recesses of my mind. She thundered and shook, and I let my spirit play with the decision of moving towards her or away from her. In moving away from the storm, I would feel protected, yet silenced...riding out her wrath, waiting for the perception of balance to restore itself. I could go towards her shaking my fists-- not mad at her, just mad-- letting it all out. My inner me honoring my truth, being heard. Or is that perception, too? Would I be heard over her loud voice, her tears drowning mine? She is crying for all of humanity, she is crying for earth. Are my tears just for me? Just about me?
            The thunder rolls through again. I decide  to go in towards the quiet, to where I can hear myself think. Though, think is such the wrong word as I am listening to my soul not my mind. Cover me, protect me. I drape a shield over my physical body like an umbrella directing torrents of wind and rain away. Here, I am dry and cocooned.
            The lightning strikes, it blinds my closed eyes into opening and I stand up-- no more, I scream. I run towards her, the storm, and she and I dance caught up in each other's frenzied energy. We laugh, too.  Her tears cleanse me. First, my body washing away years of protective layers. Then, my mind, the cleansing washing away the old. I breathe in all things new and possible. Then, it is my spirit's turn. My spirit dances-laughs, does moves my body cannot do. I watch her; she is fun and light and free.
            I lay on the earth as the last few drops of rain fall over me to hear a quiet I rarely hear. I am so present there is nothing. I have tuned out the birds. I have tuned out the wind. I have tuned it all away to hear the silence of what remains, and it is beautiful. This is what I dreamed.