I'm stale sitting here
at this typewriter, the door open on my
little balcony when suddenly there is a roar in the sky,
Bruckner shouts back from
the radio and then the rain comes down glorious and violent,
and I realize that
it's good that the world can explode this way
because now
I am renewed, listening and watching as
droplets of rain splash on my wristwatch.
The torrent of rain clears my brain and my
spirit
as
a long line of blue lightning splits
the night sky.
I smile inside, remembering that
someone once said, "I'd rather be lucky than good," and I quickly
think, "I'd rather be lucky and good"
as tonight
as Bruckner sets the tone
as the hard rain continues to fall
as another blue streak of lightning
explodes in the sky
I'm grateful that for the moment I'm
both.
Charles Bukowski - The Flash Of Lightning Behind The Mountain
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