Power Incarnate

Power Incarnate 

A bony hand rakes the sky with its hooked fingers,
followed by the deafening sound of air itself exploding.
The wind, raging in torment, struggling to be free, howls in protest.
Torrents of rain, falling in undulating sheets, flood the ground with their life giving power.
A thunderstorm, power incarnate, the power of our Almighty God in a physical form.
Destruction and chaos seem to describe it. The sound of war and fire.
Most view it with fear. Children cringe at the glare of the light and the roar of the thunder.
The ferocity burns my eyes and the image of that bolt stays in my vision, even if I close my eyes.
The awe-inspiring pure power of a thunderstorm is humbling.
Lighting as a brief glimpse of the Creator, the thunder as His voice, the rain as His tears.
Yet for all the destruction and fear it brings, it also brings joy and life.
The air is pure and sweet smelling with the scent of rain, the grass is wet and a radiant green,
and the heart is filled with awe. That which starts with fear and destruction, ends with peace and purity.
The violence of the storm restoring the air to it's pure form.
The rain falls on my face, rivulets flowing through my eyes.
Through the rain I see a different world, pure and full of light.
Light split into the visible spectrum, a rainbow of colors.
Soon it passes, the storm clouds fade and all is returned to normal.
Yet, it better. There is still disappointment of the storm fading, but it is replaced by a quiet contentment.
Peace spreads over the world for a moment.
All is calm and quiet as the world waits for the next thunderstorm.