thunders are high above the ground and the sound that takes our hearts away with goodness is the silent part of a storm that had given the eyes of hurricanes an open and close start to the air that breathes the undertow when it inhales the clone of silence through the air that we breathe that doesn't have the strength to stand in the center so that it can never spark a thought though the tighten collars that dip and rise until the flushing winds would stand to decipitate lightning from rain that swallows waters at the moment within compact circles that draw in a breath and then release the waters in waves of spirals that start with the combustion of water and ice falling directly above the wind of compression.
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