It Must Have Been The Rain

It must have been the rain....
A mild hum,
when you romanticize over the atmosphere.
Calmly washing,
or viscously stirring
everything you wished to be.
Arms would have me asleep,
but instead I wonder-
if during the thunder-
you here me call out,
and as the lightning strikes-
understand that I crash-
into an opposite in strength.
It never happens on it's own.
I needed something.
Plus and minus.
The sky holds you in a cloud-
ripped away from ideas-
blowing and catching-
wild winds-
of stardust formed into bone,
and sacred flesh-
with hair raised static.
Finger lace the storm.
Connect lightening-
as a power directed by our existence.
I carry a kite and key....
A beautiful yearned faith.
Tap away and electrify-
all celebrations of you.