High on the Heavens

Thunderstorms make me high. There is something so poetic about them, the way the water decides to rush downwards, experiencing a long-awaited embrace with the thirsty longing ground, the way the sky lights up abruptly, in clairvoyant camaraderie with the Heavens, the way the forks of lightning make me want to twirl round and round, round and round, soaring on air, hand in hand with something incredibly filled with love.

I want to dance in the water that suddenly becomes cold after a drearily dehydrating day, feel the wind on my face and take in an intoxicating smell that my nose can’t seem to get enough of... And I want to take a long walk down a boulevard, letting the sights and sounds permeate my senses, filling them up with sheer bliss as I witness the beauty of trees whose lofty green tresses have been bathed in the glorious downpour.

The walk, though apparently solitary, would have my mind overwhelmed by the connection I feel with the universe — the joy of glancing at the world around you with kindred company and feeling one with it, oblivious to everything else. I would have beautiful, heartfelt, exalted love take me by hand and walk me through this path. There would be no emptiness in this. Only the ecstasy of a flight under the stars.

Oh the rain! Oh the thunder! Oh harmony on earth! This is to you. This is to love. And I say again, thunderstorms make me high.