Crackling power shimmers in air,
Laid bare, a tree ignites, brightens the sky above with flame,
The shame of man is that we cannot flee electricity,
For we are of flesh and coil, our skin crackles and boils,
And electrons flow continuously,
Listing both you and me as conduits,
On lists of those killed in electrical storms.
We’re born to be lightning rods,
Brains prodded and sparking synapses,
Relapses of the mind – unable to exist without it,
Fit for both kings and paupers,
But while it offers us sentience,
Unrelenting in its unwavering flow, towed forth from electrons,
Long gone emotions – interconnected by themes of electricity,
High voltage low amperage antihistamines,
Reborn via clean free energy,
The scream of: “CLEAR” inciting fear and hope simultaneously,
See, we’re lightning rods, riding this wave of particles,
Articles of clothing generating static,
Bodies generating current – frantic,
And height attracting lightning antics,
Through a path of least resistance,
And thus we are nothing but ash.
Lightning Rods. – Excerpt From Elements.
