Let it Strike

Send the thunder down to the chambers of my unruly heart. May the lightning strike its core and circuitry, bring it back to its final pulsing shot. I hear the thumping of my newly discovered passion. The hands are ready, nimble to the touch. I shepherd my thoughts into the corral where no man has entered. I risk my time and effort to be seen with a cane and tattered clothes. My wild words, with uncouth charm, spiral down to a clean streak, sending out new wavelengths— undetected by the sharpest radars, but only seen through the fortunes of a holy and sacred heart.