The Monsoon
When the rumbling of the thunder is an echo of the ache of your heart. Its strings taut, puppeteering the magnificent galactic show in the heavens. The lightening ripples across the celestial sphere silently wreaking havoc much like your incessant thoughts ricocheting in the vastness of your Mind. Mindless pulsations, shooting up your synapses Soundless and devastating. It starts small, it starts strong. A trickle ,a soft murmur of a current sliding up your spine preceded by sunny minds, sunny skies. Alas! a spontaneous hyperdrive It resurrects your past, the lightening strike A cross-current of rhyming stories and dead ends A torrential downpour of the thought virus. Your entire being buzzes. Then the thunder rolls in loudly, brandishing its invisible power shaking your roots, dancing to your heart. The Aching Heart. Music doesn't suffice. Rock'n'roll doesn't cut it. Only the thundering typhoon matches your frequency providing respite...