The Awakening Storm

When the Sky Split Open

A quiet hum settled across the hills,

Where the air held the weight of waiting.

The river, still as glass, mirrored the clouds,

Pale and heavy, as if burdened by secrets

It dared not spill.

Then, without warning, the heavens unraveled,

A jagged bolt tearing the canvas of gray.

Rain fell, not in timid taps,

But in torrents that sang against the earth,

Waking the stones, the roots, the forgotten.

And in the downpour, a strange clarity emerged—

The ground seemed alive, trembling with joy,

Each leaf glistening with borrowed light,

The sky no longer a ceiling,

But an endless, shifting veil.

It was in that wild cascade of color and chaos

That something shifted inside—

A recognition of the world’s boundless pulse,

And a tether to something both infinite

And beautifully fragile.