Part 1 - The High School Years
Child of the Storm
Stepping outside, frantic chirping from nearby
trees informs me of his approach.
The Master comes and I am a slave, bowing dutifully...
He fulfills my blackest cravings and my brightest hopes.
Nostrils flared, soon I smell him on deceptively
calm breezes, alive with static electricity.
From afar, rolling thunder calls my name,
then closer, light strikes as he seeks me, his own.
Bird, beast and human alike cringe, seeking
shelter.
Go ahead then... hide... this next hour is mine alone.
As the trees bend, hope changes this desolate face and my eyes glow madly from within.
Whole-heartedly I rush into the night hoping to
aid in the battle for my heritage.
As a born sailor the ocean or a pilot the sky,
How I long to ride the heavens with my father -
My father men call Storm.
Fat droplets of rain explode on my face,
the lesser shackles of my mortal shell weaken.
A moment of doubt, but no more....
He reaches for me, and I am possessed.
I am primal rage now.
Unstoppable.
In need of guidance, and it comes...
rains that cleanse,
winds that lift and inspire,
light that forces me to see - truly see
and thunder that speaks of long ago, and yet to be.
And for a time I know ... RAPTURE
Then I turn -
a wall too high?
a fear too terrible?
some sin not yet atoned for? What?!?
And in the time it takes one solitary bird to cry
out
to the tempest, "Enough!" His power is exhausted,
and you might recognize me again.
But
I am not yet whole.
Part of me lingers still in the night air, taunting me,
teasing me for my weakness. For my humanity.
But then, it's not over yet.
We will conquer this prison of flesh.
Yet shall I claim the power that is my birthright,
that power to cleanse and replenish.
And I the Child, shall become as He.
I shall become the Living Storm.
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