Will you steal across my skies and sing like you did last time? Will you rumble, roar, pour and thunder, just like you did last time? Will you turn dark and angry, grey and blue, and will the sun look crimson wrapped in your fury?
Will the tree sway and tell me then, you are on your way? Will leaves flutter and fall and sail across the river, little boats for ants that have finally decided they have collected more food than they really need? Will these blooms plant little seeds at your feet? Will you make winds hurl dust across these miles so this city converts into that? Will you knead everything into the same flesh, the same blood, the same heartbeat?
Will you bring distant cries from far lands, gentle whispers that were cast into various spaces, whispers that will reach us here to be cast into print in a virtual world? Will somebody read those words and get reminded of long forgotten words, long forgotten people?
Will you make this soil wet and fertile, will fruits roll of the surface, tumbling towards you in their urgency to sprout? Will this air smell of mud and soil and grass and leaves that are trod-upon?
Will you, will you, will you rain, will you shoot streaks of light onto this earth, cracking its surface, releasing its pent up anger, will you crash and bang down with sounds that will keep us all up at night, will you exasperate people, will you flood, will you leak, will you deliver this decomposing, decaying planet with redemption?
Will you? Soon?