The Strike
Not by unleashing it— by aiming. By choosing. By knowing when to strike. Stillness has always been the portal. I just wasn’t ready to walk through it. Now I do. I lie back and let it take me. Staring at the sky. No thoughts. No striving. I was always listening. Always waiting for this moment. — And then—lightning. Not from above. From inside. A crack. A rupture. Not of destruction—of birth. It wasn’t a strike. It was a revelation. Thunder followed my breath. Lightning curled through my hips. ...
The Strike
Not by unleashing it— by aiming. By choosing. By knowing when to strike. Stillness has always been the portal. I just wasn’t ready to walk through it. Now I do. I lie back and let it take me. Staring at the sky. No thoughts. No striving. I was always listening. Always waiting for this moment. — And then—lightning. Not from above. From inside. A crack. A rupture. Not of destruction—of birth. It wasn’t a strike. It was a revelation. Thunder followed my breath. Lightning curled through my hips. ...
