The sheets of rain lash down, almost maniacal in their resolve to pound everything in the way.
The lightning flashes blindingly. For a split second, there is silence, followed by the booming thunder nearby.
The water pounds and pounds. The thunder rumbles. The lightning comes again.
The storm is hitting my windshield and the wipers struggle to move the water. Their back and forth motion is hypnotic — and I wonder whether the storm I feel and hear and fear is really outside — or if it’s inside my heart.
It’s dark and it’s loud and it’s gloomy. The storm outside the car threatens me physically, but the storm inside threatens something far deeper. Far more existential. It’s pounding on my very core again.

Whether it makes sense or not, I’ve learned to expect miracles
Ethnic Indian wins Miss America? Who cares? Bigots seem upset
When doubt wakes me at dawn, my world seems a lonely place
Arming teachers for safety likely to create gang that can’t shoot straight
What can a free society do before an unstable person commits a crime?
I need to communicate meaning, but my words vanish into a void
Though it’s helpful to have talent, that won’t guarantee success