The sky vaulting overhead, its depths seemingly worlds away, is overshadowed by impenetrable darkness, a blanket of black, threatening yet sweet and comforting. The first flash of blinding light lances through the heart of the clouds, and the heavens begin their rumbles, distant and gentle but growing in power. A monster seems to have dominated the skies, ready for a wrathful break over victims below. The savage violence can be echoed by nothing save the savagery in my own heart. The bitter hate for the life that shrieks around is mirrored by this beast of the heavens, and I beg it unleash its rage unto the taunting universe. Vicious winds whip branches of ominous trees, turning them from scenery to weapons in an instant. The clouds break before my eyes; another brilliant flash and the torrential drops begin to pour. Like icy needles upon my skin, they sting my flesh and blind me from the wrath unleashed. Perhaps it is best; to see the power of the storm would only blind my rage further and send me to my death. I know only my blind darkness and the painful rain, spewing forth from the heavens and drenching me in freezing cold . . . . Rage lasts briefly, however, until the adrenaline has died, until the storm has no more will to fight with force; the torrents die away, and the stinging upon my skin fades, to be replaced by the gentle falling of the misting droplets. The flashes fail, the thunder disperses, survived only by a softer, sweeter rain, one to push away my anger and replace it with my true sensations. Forth from my heart pours all my true confusion, my true desperation, my true blind sadness. My dark eyes fill no more with rain but with a warmer sensation, not so sweet as the falling sky, but bitter like my pains. Amid the safety of the storm, the tears may fall and vanish, and again I shall hide my hurt and my suffering anew. Again shall the world see the smiling me, once the rain has all gone away.