the cycle

late summer evening in the deep south causes the sky to crack open with an electric white/blue so brilliant I can’t pull my eyes away. there is something soothing to the soul during a mid september thunderstorm. comfort comes with every shake of thunder, undulating branches at the mercy of the changing breeze.

we are all connected. pain is televised. the dead travel at the speed of light; empathy travels at the speed of generations. lost in the loop. are we all deaf? we are all alone.

the uncertainty of a storm. the horizon is seen again.