My Love is the Storm
You say that you love rain, but you open your umbrella when it rains.
You say that you love the sun, but you find a shadow spot when the sun shines.
You say that you love the wind, but you close your windows when wind blows.
This is why I am afraid, you say that you love me too.
– Qyazzirah Syeikh Ariffin, I am Afraid
If you’ve never stood in the pouring rain commanding lightning, thrilled by the electric charge that stands the hairs on your arms, joyously welcoming the mix of ether and ozone that shortens your breath and quickens your pulse, you can not say you’ve ever loved a storm.
If you’ve never stood bare, arms out in grateful reception of the suns life giving and life taking energy until your skin burned and your sight dimmed and you became the raging fury and heat of a star, you can not say you’ve ever loved the sun.
If you’ve never stood on the highest point you could find, exposed to the howling wind that threatened to carry you as it screams it’s furious emotions in a voice so loud it deafens and numbs as it tears through your very soul, you can not say you’ve ever loved the wind.
And if you can’t stand in complete and total awe and wonder of the one who receives and returns your affection and attention and, yes, your worship, with heart and soul open and inviting, ready to face the storm, willing to burn, able to withstand the wind, with unfettered courage and faith and joy and gratitude, and have yet been fierce enough to be as gentle as a warm rain on a cool windless day, then you can not say you’ve ever truly loved at all.
I will do all of this and more. So much more.
My love is the blazing sun, the howling wind, the freezing blizzard, the raging sea, the gentle breeze, the cool pond, the warm rain, the spring day.
My love is the storm.
Do not be afraid.
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