At The Mercy of Her Storm

I was whisked away in the dead of night,

By burning sand and glacial firelight.

Devoured whole by thunder’s cry,

By booming echoes that split the sky.

The heavens cracked, the tempests roared,

Lightning lashed what fate had stored.

I stood unshaken, spine held tight,

And charged the storm with reckless might.

I rushed headlong, unafraid to fall,

Indifferent if I rose at all.

Spun into pleasure edged with dread,

Where thrill and ruin shared one bed.

Your hands drew close around my throat,

A silent vow, a whispered note.

In midnight’s hush, beneath the glare,

I swayed, undone, by honeyed hair.

Your arctic eyes cut sharp and bare,

A frozen truth I could not spare.

Your voice commanding, vast, and odd

Like rolling thunder, like the sound of God.

I stepped too near, already caught,

Aware I would lose the war I fought.

You took me riding wind and flame,

A violent joy never to be tamed.

If storms must strike and leave a scar,

Yours is the mark time cannot erase from my heart.

I was never meant to withstand your storm only to be taken by it.