By the looks of it, the end times have come. The sky is attacking the ground and everything using the ground as a foundation for the future, with a vengeance unmatched in modern times. Trees—whipped into screaming children attempting to escape the claws of a demonic, abusive father—are unable to even pretend to stand tall and erect. Instead, they bend into a begging stance, hoping for even a crumb of mercy. There is no mercy in this wind. This fierce storm asserts Nature’s control over man and beast. A bolt of lightning just took out something close by; I’m afraid it was a house or a block or perhaps even an entire subdivision. The thunder-clap shook this house and my confidence in the future. Whatever the lightning struck is now a molten remnant of the history of something; what might it have been?
I am unsure of tomorrow, even of an hour hence. My last words might be digital representations of terror. Ach. I do love and admire and actually WORSHIP the power of Mother Nature, in spite of what I believe is her intent to take my life in the most horrible way. She is vicious, mean-spirited, and raw; just like me before she ripped the life from me in a billion bolts of unbridled energy.