The storm always brings a lot with it.
More often than not, it brings along thoughts of you,
thoughts of how we used to dance around in this rain for hours without little
care for much else. Now I'm standing out here
alone in this darkness waiting for the thunder to come, so when it finally fills
the air and shakes me to my heart, I can call out your name and hope it will be
carried across the sky to somewhere you might hear it. Part of me knows you’re out there listening
to the sounds of the rain, listening for that faint whisper of your name….
The other part of me though, thinks I’m a fool to bother, that
even if this whisper could reach her, you wouldn't be listening anyways. Still, like the young boy I once was I try to
carry the best of my hopes out from my dreams and into the real world. I try, despite how much better I know, to
hope that someday you might be brought back to me. That perhaps like the shamans of the old I
can summon you back from the dark, back to where I need her most. Have I just
become a victim to the delusions of this dark magic? The false sense of power it brings to us in
our times of need? Or do I keep coming
back out here because I can’t stop thinking about you, and that part of me
knows, more than anything, that you're out just waiting to hear your name.
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