The Calm after the Storm

Storms draw something out of us that calm seas don’t.

Haven’t we all changed in a way, we thought we won’t?

When the storm strikes, right before our eyes,

And we sense the sheer uncertainty of our survival, as our heart cries,

Doesn’t the strong winds dig our souls apart,

And revive the long-lost fears, once again in our hearts?

Doesn’t the storm bring out a part of us we’d never seen?

A part that wants to either conquer the storm or die in between.

With our nerves wrecked and fists clenched,

We do the unthinkable, wiping the tears that our eyes shed.

We enter the chaos, which we once thought we never would,

And fight the storm, doubting all along if we’re doing what we should.

Facing the harshness of the st

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orm, seemingly till eternity,

Don’t we all wish for it to turn out as a fortunate stroke of serendipity? 

And once the storm is over, we don’t remember how we made it through.

It might be a doubt if it’s true, or just a dream yet to come true.

But certainly, we aren’t the same person anymore

And there’s always calm, once the storm isn’t there anymore.

Whether you end up conquering it and discovering your new self,

Or dying a bit in between, and losing a part of yourself,

There’s always calm at the end. Either out of shock

or admiration of the new version of yourself, that you unlock.

Either way, we’re left by the shore of the storm-ridden, calm sea,

Grieving a loss, or simply admiring our life and its serendipity.