Seeking Power

I got drenched to the skin yesterday night. Drenched, dripping wet. Pounded by bullet-like drops, buffeted by winds like a sail. The elements raged round me. The pure cold water seared my skin and chilled my bones. The water ran down my face and bare arms and legs, cleansing me of all civilization. And then it washed away all thought. And finally it stripped me of emotion itself, leaving nothing but a clear sharp animal instinct.

So I broke into a run. I ran and ran and ran, trying to outsprint the wind itself, as the sea splashed the quay on my left and the sharp salty tang of its smell masturbated my nostrils. And the wind roared in my ears, straining against me, and I strained against myself, pushing my muscles till they screamed in delicious agony, pushing until my body attained the beautiful ache.

And then, all of a sudden, I stopped dead and threw my head back. I raised my graceful bare arms to the heavens, in a gesture not of supplication but of triumph, of glory. I screamed deliriously at the torn-open sky. The rain continued to jab my body and then trickle down in little streams. The wind added its irresistible voice to my barbaric yawps echoing out across the storm-tossed waters of the bay.

And then I fell silent. I closed my eyes and took in the smell, sound, touch, even the taste of the tangy spray on my welcoming lips. I reveled in the power and glory of the moment.

And then I opened my eyes, let out a feral scream, and took off again in a blur of motion, arms and legs pounding against and with the insistent rhythm of the rain, oblivious to all thought. And all of a sudden, in a surge of wild uncontrolled power, like a spark let loose, I threw my arms wide open and leaped into the sky.

I was flying.

Almost.

I was happy yesterday night.