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. ...
