Psalm 148:8 New English Translation (NET Bible)

8 O fire and hail, snow and clouds,
O stormy wind that carries out His orders,

 

 

In the middle of the night, a thunderstorm moves by.

The grumbling seems a sign of constant dissatisfaction.

I thought it to be free while driven by the wind,

but somewhere at its edges, it groans in its defection.

 

It spits out some lightning almost trying to bring fear.

Who really listens when most are still asleep?

Lost in their own world of sweet dreams or nightmares

triggered in sub-consciousness for only one to see.

 

And when the sleep is over and all seems forgotten.

The storm plays out in distance and later to evaporate.

Here and there some water that’s to disappear in time

to be gathered for another storm in a repeat for another day.

 

Thunder sounds like the anger of frustrated souls.

People in a state of war and you wish that they’d move on.

Glorified degradation in that always seeks its own goals

to be accepted as the norm in the later burning sun.

 

The storm moves on now later to be replaced by another.

Somewhere in time and space, its cousins will pop off.

Until they fizzle down to life itself, no one will bother

Much better than anger as we hunger all to be better off.

 

Jan Wienen