Through the Storm
I steady myself—
the calm center of the storm taunts me,
offering a fragile comfort,
a fleeting pause in the vast rhythm
of what has been,
and what is still to come.
I steady myself—
knowing this road is mine alone.
I pause to question,
to wander within my wandering,
to search for meaning in the silence.
Yet the clouds stay mute,
or perhaps the rain
refuses to carry their wisdom down.
I steady myself—
as winds of unrest tear at me,
as questions multiply into more,
each answer only a seed
for another doubt.
Until I am swallowed whole
by the storm’s wreckage—
and strangely,
it begins to feel like home.
I steady myself—
unsure if I have strayed
or stayed true to the path.
Blinded by borrowed visions,
lured by hollow glitter
masking nothing but earth.
I steady myself—
knowing storms are both
cradles and graves.
This chaos births the future
even as it buries the past.
I leave flowers gently—
for what I have lost,
and for what is yet to bloom.
I steady myself—
and step forward,
then again,
splitting the fog with each stride,
until the haze dissolves—
and I arrive.
Not searching,
not wandering,
but finally—home.
