Silent Thunder

you can feel it coming, as if the skies start to darken
both eyes on every line as his grip starts to harden
a sudden surge, a quick burst, and everything around lights up
walls crumble down, words can change the world with the right touch
but there's no sound, just a man and his mind
and even when the suns out, there's still clouds in the sky
its concentration, hour by hour, patiently sliding the wrist
alone in his tower, waiting for that lightning to hit
and when the thunder rolls through, there's no crash reaction
his fingers flow with ink, writing paragraphs of passion
and he wonders about the thunder, is it hazard or magic
there's always a spark in the clutter that kindles a lasting matchstick
which lights candles in his hideaway, there's a glow in his windows
there's always a storm on his page, as if his hands move when the wind blows
but the rumbling of his thoughts usually brings colder days
and the only freedom he has is printing till his shoulder aches
relieve the pain, seeing rain water spill from the gutters
but the words from his lips cause his fingertips to flutter
and the thundercaps form once again, with a rage that could turn fate
instead it rattles through his conscious like a snake in an earthquake
he's always known about the storm, its what keeps him breathing
that sudden explosion of energy is all he's ever needed
its a silent thunder, a place where heaven stays ageless
but it doesn't go unnoticed, you can read it on his pages...

i like to think of my mind, as my own personal rain cloud
thoughts pour like rain, and the music always stays loud
the thunder roars, lightning strikes and leaves the sky and trees lit
but its always in my mind, so i just write it how i feel it

__________________

The Establishment
I am the Batman.