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.