The Storm

The sky is wailing: He's crying, and he yells in rage. A bolt of lightning, Like an that incisor rips through the sky. What terror lies beyond there? And yet, All i see is beauty in its rawest form. When the storm begins to calm, The first glimpse Of the introverted sun, Signals the world below the clouds To exhale Like a harmonious lullaby would calm A frightened infant. I know, The prismatic effect of light passing through droplets of rain, Creates a spectrum of colours to form, And yet, every time i see that faint rainbow After a tenacious storm It still feels like magic.