Not sure where this one came from. Was just walking on the treadmill and had a thought…
With his hands did he grasp ‘round the lightning.
In his hands, did he carry it home.
But as everyone knows about lightning
It’s not meant to be held, but to roam.
Oh, the bolt, how it did jostle and rage
Sending sparks of disdain to the sky
Glimmering voltage of pain and despair
Did the lightning seek liberty’s eye.
But his captor, no freedom would give him,
Nor his sadness, no room for a care.
In his grasp, was he lesser and lesser
Till his blaze was but barely a flare.
And so then was he quiet in darkness,
And the flare, no more spark to achieve,
Simply fizzled and frapped into nothing,
Of himself, nothing left to believe.
Then suddenly black clouds began circling
Calling out to their lightning, “Come home!”
While the wind through the trees screamed her vengeance
Lifting waves ‘pon the earth in a foam.
“Let him go!” flashed his brothers around him.
“Set him free!” wailed the tempest’s beguile.
“Turn him loose to be streaked across heaven,
To touch flat land and sea tide and isle!”
Glory! There in the dust of his captor
Shone an ember that started to glow
With each call from the cosmos above him,
Did it light and continue to grow.
Till the lightning was pulsing with vigor
And resplendent with fiery desire
And he burst from the captors strong clutches
Surging up through the sky in a fire.
Thus, the captor, who bound up the lightning
That the fervor within him would wane,
When he’s faced with the kin of the lightning,
Will be certain his work is in vain.