Questions to a Perfect Storm

Darkest Storm, 
O why do you weep so?
What brings the smell of petrichor to our noses, 
that makes us inhale deeply and sigh?
What makes you scream your thunderous bellow, 
so loud against the patter of the rain?

Brightest Lightning, 
O where dost thou run? 
With such urgency and speed that we could blink and miss it?
Why do you light up the sky in an instant, and only for an instant?
Do you wish to imitate the sun,
Bright and shining, peeking behind the clouds, 
bringing morning to the night?

And why, dear Sun, do you burn so bright?
What do you wish to reveal? 
Your beams that melt away the clouds like taffy, 
striking their tears in the air, 
turning them to mist?
Is this what you wished us to see?
Your sunshine refracting,
splitting apart,
to reveal this glorious arc, 
a brilliant prismatic spray of light, 
intangible and unreachable?

Beautiful Rainbow, do you know how rare you are? 
The chances that lead to your creation?
Do you know why you are sought after so much? 
Do you know of your beauty, 
that shining display of colors that make all smile and laugh? 
Do you enjoy the excitement you bring?
Why are you so fleeting? Do you have somewhere to be?

Or do you just wish for solidarity, up among the clouds?
What have you seen of our world from up above?
Do you wish you could stay longer?
Or are you happy with your lot?

I suppose we shall never know.