A thunderstorm is a beautiful thing

It can be peaceful and gentle,

Soothing all of your qualms away,

Removing all of your fears.

But then,

It becomes wild and rampant,

As the wind tousles your hair,

And the rain beats powerfully in your ears.

Yet even then –

Even when you’re afraid,

The calm always comes,

The gusts of wind turn tender,

Running its fingers delicately through all of the tangled insecurities,

Working through

All of the snarled curls and imprisoned locks

Until it is assured that even

Come another storm

Everything will be okay.

Yes,

A thunderstorm is a beautiful thing.

Kind of like love.