such is lightning

lightning is such a fabulous sky-space dancer.

it's a tongue lashing to my eyes,

done with the violence of colors. 

there is the deliverance of spontaneity 

and the soothe of shock, 

yet expected.

it has a reputational venom 

not experienced directly, 

but bystander testimonies abound.

"pencil me in for a two o'clock view",

is a joke that humans jocularly ascend to.

when lightning speaks,

language is the last request to be honored.

sure thunder can be an afterthought provoked.

but when lightning speaks,

it is as afterthoughts.

what was the essential cause for outspoken,

has already unannounced taken place.

don't even ask,

for it's none of our business.

just consider for yourself,

the qualities of the dancer, floor offered,

the mood of the sky,

the melody of time passage in skyways

and the evocatives that present as themselves.

they are beyond the capacity of legible script.

they are cursory,

yet extremely thorough and unimaginably detailed.

generally somewhat cursive to a grounding point, 

yet of a sky calligraphy never to be duplicated.

if this is script, 

then we can say, 

its coming from a beyond, 

for what we, as humans, would call meaningful.

yes, there is a syntax in place.

and blessedly we, are only audience to it.

but the dance itself,

it's eye-lashing.

it's phantasmagorical, 

it's an outbreak of a generally introspective sky.

it has the temperament of musings,

with whimsical rhythms in play.

as I oversee and overhear.

it speaks to me that I cannot of myself say.

it's a spontaneous for me to sense,

that I would wish upon myself to live.

if I had teeth as light,

that would be the way to the world,

that I would flash a smile . . .