Electric Storm

The lightning flows through, slower than gravity permits, 
Enveloping my heart in static blue sadness. 
Through prisms of snowfall it captures the winter 
In cold fragments of time lost and sorrow inherited. 
Electric music filters through the medium, cobalt colored, 
Diluting the senses, prickling every last nerve
Where death succeeded as emptiness took residence, 
Immersing me in the despair of its creator, tying our strings 
Together into something stronger, like some guitarist's macramé.