The rain falls.
As if to wash away the dirt of the day.
As if to dampen the earth for growth.
As if to cleanse away the filth.
But it doesn’t.

The thunder sounds.
As if to awaken the sleeping. 
As if to loosen the ruble in the caves.
As if to musically enchant our way.
But it doesn’t.

The lightning strikes.
As if to light the path before me.
As if to brighten the night sky.
As if to put fear into the mighty.
But it doesn’t.

The rain will fall in sadness.
The thunder will sound in silence.
The lightning will strike in loneliness.
The storm will always brew inside.

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