The Ink that Etched Beauty

Dusk transitioned to dark. Fragments of sunset lingered low in the west like blazing embers do before dying into ash. Wind swirled in a soothing, cool hush.

A swing by the water served as the idealistic ampitheater for a summer evening in July. Heat lightening pulsed in intervals revealing sombre clouds at the bright pink, white, and purplish flashes of electricity.

Thunder began to quietly rumble.

The breezes still soothed.

Bolts continued to roll and flash in a powerful display.
Genuine awe held me. It was the ink that etched beauty on my heart.