Witness in Storm

Through the seasons of the soul, I stand, Where hope feels like a gloom-heavy land. But the grayest clouds are bound to pass by, Leaving room for a clearer, softer sky.

The lightning is a burst of anger, sharp and bright, Unexpressed emotions hitting through the night. These storms can hurt, or they can turn to green, Nurturing a future yet to be seen.

How we speak our truth, how we choose to show, Is the very seed that helps the spirit grow. We cannot tame the fury or the gale’s wild sound, But we can keep our own roots firm within the ground.

Like a steady tree, silent and still, Witnessing the fury with a quieted will. My thoughts may drift, uncontrolled and vast, A black hole where the heavy shadows are cast.

Yet even in the low, when the light starts to part, The chaos refines into the beauty of art. For simply going through is what truly matters, To witness life’s nature, even when it shatters.