As the Music Fades, the Storm Remains

The storm rages, relentless.
Not a crash of thunder, but a quiet, gnawing roar—
Thoughts splinter like waves against a shore,
each one demanding attention, each one refusing to fade.

I beg for silence, for a pause in the motion.
For the weight of my own mind to ease,
for the tides to settle, for breath to feel light again.
But peace is a mirage, slipping through my fingers
the moment I reach for it.

If the storm must stay, then what remains?
A longing, a whisper, a quiet ache—
A hope, however distant, that someday,
I will find comfort within the chaos.

—T.A.