silent thunder

“I am smiling at myself today
There’s no wish left in this heart
Or perhaps there is no heart left
Free from all desire
I sit quietly like Earth
My silent cry echoes like thunder
Throughout the universe
I am not worried about it
I know it will be heard by no one
Except me.”   ~ Rumi

You were born to be a rainstorm,
To send your voice throughout the night,
To sing your song with falling raindrops,
To break the darkness with your light,
You were born to show raw beauty,
To wash the dirt out from their eyes,
But the whole world ran for cover,
When you opened up your skies,
So you made your thunder silent,
And learnt to bite your rainy tongue,
You gave them what they thought they wanted,
You gave them life with endless sun,
But as they watched their lives grow weaker,
Watched as their leaves turned brown and dry,
They wished they didn’t take for granted,
Your booming presence in the sky,
You were born to be a rainstorm,
To be chaotic and be bold,
To show there’s beauty in the knowledge,
That you cannot be controlled,
Because you might think you’re not needed,
Life without you is the same,
But nothing beautiful would ever grow,
If it wasn’t washed with rain.
—  Erin Hanson

 The Dream Thieves by Maggie Steifvater

That’s not what Gansey is to me,” Ronan said.

“You didn’t say you don’t swing that way.”

Ronan was silent. Thunder growled under his feet. “No, I didn’t.”

“That makes it worse, man. You really are just his lap dog.” There wasn’t even a tiny part of Ronan that was stung by this statement.

When Ronan thought of Gansey, he thought of moving into Monmouth Manufacturing, of nights spent in companionable insomnia, of a summer searching for a king, of Gansey asking the Gray Man for his life. Brothers.

Ronan said, “Life isn’t just sex and drugs and cars.” Kavinsky stood up. The thorns whipped at his legs, sinking into his cargo pants. His heavy-lidded eyes held Ronan’s, and Ronan thought of all of the times he had looked through the window of his BMW and seen Kavinsky looking back. The illicit thrill of it. The certainty that Kavinsky didn’t let anyone tell him who he was.

Kavinsky said, “Mine is.”

The time has come to turn your heart
Into a Temple of Fire.
Your essence is gold hidden in the dust,
To reveal its splendour
You need to burn in the fire of love.

When compassion fills my heart
Free from all desire,
I sit quietly like the earth.
My silent cry echoes
Like thunder throughout the Universe.

There is a way from your heart to mine
And my heart knows this,
Because it is clean and pure like water.
When the water is still like a mirror
It will behold the Moon

—  Rumi