I slipped and fell beneath the waves of thunder summersaulting through the air.
You simply brandished your sword and you cut your own hair.
Your throne stood tall amongst the rest and crumbled beneath the weight of those that danced before my very own test.
You gave up on me one day as you jumped the hood. It wasn’t until the letters and lessons poured salt on my wounds that I understood.
It wasn’t about Angels and Demons at all; it was about learning to rise in our love all over again after we fall.
You promised me a seed and your own vows too; it wasn’t until I fell in your dreams and came on top as you flew.
I realize now that it’s more than the mystery within. More than the weight of old bones and our original sin.
You see, thunder lingers and shouts out with force. It’s the remnants of our voice succumbing to source.