Shifting

I feel like something is about to happen,

like a rain about to fall.

The wind, I hear it whisper,

as the shift of pressure calls.

And maybe naught will happen,

My own hope kindling in the squall.

But I feel something rising,

A tempest,

A change,

A call.

Maybe one day you'll hear me,

My silent cry against the night

And turn and find me waiting,

A wildfire burning bright.

I don't know what you'll look like,

How your hair will catch the light.

I can only hope you recognize me, and

Our souls' confirming might.

And maybe today is that day

And all has built to this.

This pressure rising, bursting

A beginning to the end.