The Quiet Before the Storm

In morning hush, where silence stays,

A mind drifts softly through a golden haze.

No storms, no cries—just breath and space,

A fleeting peace, a still embrace.

Then negativity appears as a shadowy thread,

A whisper is loud inside the head.

It coils tight, the muscles clench,

An unseen war begins to wrench.

But wisdom knocks, not everyone must fight,

Some truths dissolve in gentler light.

To hold, to feel, then to let go

Release the thought and let it flow.

The soul rebounds, not torn apart.

A quiet strength, a healing heart.

Stillness returns, not quite the same,

Yet strong enough to bear the flame.