There’s beauty in lightning.
Momentary brilliance mesmerizes
before we’re plunged
into darkness once more.
Untamed raw power streaks
strikes apple tree mid-garden
good and evil exploded
into so much kindling.
Throaty rumbling laughter
dares us to come closer,
threatening to chase us down
if we flee. There’s terror in lightning.
We know not who,
or what, might die
or be brought to life
should it strike too near.

Yet tame the untamable, we try
to harness and control,
sequester ourselves in power,
think it as safe
as modest zip
of shuffling socks on shag.
Energized, our hubris deludes us
that nature’s passion does our bidding
as it illuminates darkness,
nourishes and cozies
when hunger and blizzards rage.
The same spark ignites
warming furnace
and births inferno
that burns away the chaff.
But despite dangers,
without steady impulse
the heart does not beat.

©2019 Kenneth W. Arthur