The thunder rolls like drums across the plain,
A heavy herald of the coming rain.
While others hide and bolt the heavy door,
I step outside to hear the heaven's roar.
I do not tremble when the clouds turn black,
I throw the static and the lightning back.
The jagged bolts are ribbons in my hair,
I breathe the ozone in the charging air.
I am the daughter of the crashing gale,
The one for whom the storm-winds tell their tale.
With every flash, my spirit finds its light,
A silver beacon in the charcoal night.
They call it terror, I call it a song,
The place where I have known that I belong.
I command the sparks to dance upon my palm,
In the eye of chaos, I am perfectly calm.
The clouds are subjects to my golden throne,
A sovereign power that I claim alone.
So let the sky ignite and let it cry,
I am the queen of all that's fierce and high.