By the time the thunder is heard,

lightening has already occurred.

The sulferous spark has pierced the dark

and silence for a moment rains down;

then with a clap, as if applauding

its own bravado like a horde marauding.

as if raging against a thing unknown,

as a spinning stone, and then---a groan.

Philip, a nobody; a somebody, a man,

sensed his rage before it ran

sulfer and brimston and, molten rock,

all enwrapped inside a sheath of fury,

a bolt of brutal spleen, hot, bubbling,

a bolt of blood inside the brain, troubling.

Would that he had seen the lightening first

before he flashed and crashed and cursed.