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Writing by Lightning

As a child
Certain skies would brighten me
Ransacking the most remote back-alleys
Of my imagination.

Some nights when the sky would explode
Into a dainty parade of bolts
And knock down silently captivating saplings
I would let the celestial blitzkrieg
Provide final form for my vitally molding mind
Making me thunderously bright.

I have since grown up in annual fragments
Occasionally I feel the revivifying enlightenment
Of a brainstorm
That's only the allowance of my creative firepower.

For the most part I can no longer withstand the shock
Of reverie that a wick of electricity generates
And every impulse to look up at heaven's lid
Has been irrevocably lost.

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