Strike Poem by Madison Porter

A long cracks scars the dark sky
Like an eggshell, in which we are upon the yolk looking out
And the rift glows a blinding white
As if starlight seeps from the wound
And the stars seam together the sky
Dimensions briefly seeping in
The light stains the clouds in its brief glory
Leaves whipping impression on all but shadows
Then it is gone, just a flash hardly caught by our mind

Startled, the air holds its breath
In a moment excitingly measurable, behind the seams,
Pressure builds, hands grip, anticipate,
Then Earth’s placenta bursts with friction waves
And the sound rolls a song on my eardrums
A melody of unchecked power
A roar from the ethereal kingdom
It tsunamis over miles and miles
Rattles the wood, glass and bones,
Carried on the wind
Galvanising matter

Then silence desperately clambers back on its throne.

You think it to be a rare thing, this beauty, something to be only a rare glimpse
But it has many brethren
Gathered in the clouds, a turmoiling union
Again and again again
This enigmatic phenomenon thrills me
Strike strike strike
Pure force, unstoppable
Beautiful physics unleashing itself for but a moment

They called it an act of god
Well - I do too
Yes its divine
Not in the display of “power” from a terribly human god
But in something truly worthy to simply revere