Black clouds are their lofty domain,
Living in a blink of an eye,
Lives always renewing like phoenixes,
Waiting for rebirth in the sky.
Made from the purest electricity,
They sparkle like solid light,
Waiting for their moment to shine,
Their moment in public sight.
From humble origins grew giants,
Tiny black flies were born,
Flying under the mother cloud,
Waiting for their stormy dawn.
The rumbling call to action came,
The miniscule new-borns rose,
Flying round in swarms of energy,
Seeing their parent in full throws.
The blackening skies above them,
Protecting her babies from harm,
Growing stronger from the heat,
Causing animals to run in alarm.
The storm’s dark eye gazing down,
At her swarm of tiny young,
Calling them up into her huge body,
Where lightning seeds hung.
The bravest and boldest obeyed her,
Starting their right of passage,
Their childhood’s end had begun now,
This was their life’s main voyage.
Climbing up high the thunder flies flew,
Into the middle of the storm,
The heat and turbulence changing them,
Instantly altering their form.
The flies entered the lightning seeds,
Their bodies exploding to life,
Unlimited energy grew inside it,
The lightning cut air like a knife.
It entered the ground with a boom,
Faster than the eye can see,
Planting eggs for new thunder flies,
The circle of life is a guarantee.