Distant thunder carries a strange kind of poetry

 

A low, rolling voice from beyond the edge of sight,
a whisper from the sky that doesn’t ask to be heard,
but you feel it anyway, somewhere deep.

It doesn’t threaten, it remembers.
It speaks of a storm you cannot see,
yet somehow know.

It’s the sound of patience with serious power.
it is something vast turning slowly in the back of your mind.
It is the world reminding you it’s still breathing,
even when all you hear is silence between the rumbles.

The reality of potential grows closer.