Your Account Sir

A clap of thunder, oh so timely reminds me of those problems unresolved though shaking I was not inside my muddy boots. Damn right I am still standing, and will remain so for the time it takes to execute the next, perhaps a devastating one, this strike of lightning, which appears to be the maestro of the orchestra. Who then, I ask, might be the players, will I be spared by joining from afar? I multiply that figure by the seconds and when thunder comes it may be late too late to gain immunity from all. The only question still remaining is the one I will not even ask, if I am struck what will it be for me, and in the end, who might be watching.