Tremble

My hand shakes as I write. Lines and curves. Quivering like a crisp leaf, as the calm before the storm dissipates. I have so. Many. Questions. A quest. But how can I follow the directions? When the map is ripped apart. I look for a sign. Is that the sound of running water? Or an approaching storm? Not. Again. As the lightning starts to strike, once...twice... the sky is flickering like a light bulb on it's last leg. The clouds tremble. And soon their weeping drenches me. Overwhelmed. I do not move. Taking it all in, absorbing the wrath of the sky. Pretend that wrath is mine. I let the clouds cry for me, let the lightning say what I wish I could. I wish I could.