| rdfs:comment | - It begins gently, at first, softly falling like a child’s tears. It is a sad thing, but not so unusual and wholesome in its way. And the wind lightly blows, almost tenderly caressing your face. This will not last, but it’s nice, isn’t it? The rain comes down harder now, no longer a child’s gentle weeping, and not quite an adult’s passionate cries for a lost love. It is somewhere in-between. Then the wind picks up, catching your hair, causing it to fall across your face. It speaks, in the way that wind speaks: a soft moan, nothing more yet. He is coming. Credited to [Jreinstatler ]
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| abstract | - It begins gently, at first, softly falling like a child’s tears. It is a sad thing, but not so unusual and wholesome in its way. And the wind lightly blows, almost tenderly caressing your face. This will not last, but it’s nice, isn’t it? The rain comes down harder now, no longer a child’s gentle weeping, and not quite an adult’s passionate cries for a lost love. It is somewhere in-between. Then the wind picks up, catching your hair, causing it to fall across your face. It speaks, in the way that wind speaks: a soft moan, nothing more yet. The rain has not changed. It does not fall with greater intensity, but in the distance, the faint sound of rolling thunder and the flash of a great light. The voice of the wind calls out to it; the clouds gather more strongly. The rain falls strongly now; if you were not wet before, you are now. The wind’s moan has changed to a howl, and the lightning grows closer. The air is charged with possibility. The storm is a storm in truth now, the rain stinging a little as it falls, water dripping from your hair. The wind’s howling pierces your clothing, finding any gap and driving itself through it, perhaps seeking your warmth. You should find a shelter, but something is about to happen. The lightning is close now, illuminating the entire night sky, the thunder crackling within a minute or so of the lightning. It should feel cold, shouldn’t it? The wind is strong and the rain is fierce, but you are not cold. There is an energy building. You stand there, silently staring at the raging heavens, as lightning cracks open the vault of the sky. The lines of light hang suspended in the air, after they should have ended. Something is coming. He is coming. Credited to [Jreinstatler ]
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