Thunderstorm of Solace

Thunder rattles the roof,
Strike! Goes the lightning,
Its aftershock a faint image in the writhes of clouds.
Then flicker goes the power as darkness hits.

I stumble in search for a candle,
Never quite prepared for a moment like this.

All is now quiet, but for the rumbles,
And a constant pitter-patter cascading onto my solace.

Yet I find a sort of funny peace,
Knowing nature alone can guide the lives of man,
Rivers ever winding in directions not chosen,
By such other than fate.