He waits within your mind, walking the waters of your consciousness.

He waits in that deep grey void, cloaked by a dark obscurity.

He waits for you to see him, to know him, to greet him.

And when you do, he takes you down a path.

Will you brave this road and come out his harbinger?

Or will you succumb to the storm behind him, huddling in fear from the fog?

Will you seek to see this man?

Or will you turn from him to remain in your mundane life?

He waits within a chaotic storm,

One so quiet, yet one so loud.

He watches you through his cloak of dark,

His hidden eyes icy hot like lightning striking a dry glacier.

He waits, wondering when he’ll be seen.

When through the fog, you’ll find his shadow.

For a guide cannot take you down a stormy road if his follower cannot see him.

If you wish to act his challenge, first you must look for him,

Seek for him,

Reach out to him,

And, somehow, see him.

To see through this thunderous mist is but one task,

For the way of the storm goes beyond sight.

Will you bear his lightning? His forked light of wrath?

Will you brave his misty storms and persevere the darkest clouds?

The way of the storm is not for the weak.

And it’s easy to lose your way even in his guidance.

Yet still he waits whenever you get lost,

For you to choose whether you’ll give and leave or remain and hold firm.

For you to choose to stay the path of the storm,

Or to lose yourself in mists of elsewhere.

He waits within his storm, his icy heat, his misty corner, deep within your mind.

Will you embrace him and follow him, or will you leave him behind?

He tells you not which to make, for your life is your own.

But until you see him, until you make your choice, until you flee or follow,

He waits, within the stormy obscurity of your mind.

He waits.