Lightning splits reality,

A cosmic whip cracking the darkness.

Thunder answers, deep and primal—

Gaia's bones rattling beneath my feet.

The wind becomes a hungry god,

Playing cruel games with mortal things:

Cars tossed like children's toys,

Trees of centuries splintered like matchsticks.

Steel beams bend and scream.

Darkness swallows the world whole,

A void so thick it chokes.

Each lightning strike paints

Snapshots of destruction in harsh white—

A broken world in strobe-light clarity.

Yet here I sit, cross-legged,

In the storm's silent heart.

Steam rises from bone-white porcelain,

Chamomile dancing with Earl Grey.

My checkered blanket, an island of calm

In an ocean of chaos.

Above, a perfect circle of blue

Watches like a curious eye.

I smile back at the sky,

Close my eyes, and drift—

Dreams of butterfly kisses

While the apocalypse pirouettes around me.