There was a storm

There was a storm.

A storm of brew and quiet,

And call.

There was a storm.

That I needed to tend to.

Simply passing by.

You slept.

And then,

There was a storm.

You took me by surprise.

As storms often do.

I wasn’t sure,

Couldn’t hear,

For there is an ache

In your silent voice,

Your thunder.

But your voice

Needs no storm.

You’ve no need for hunger.

That too takes me by surprise.

Yet, are you thirsty, and still,

And ancient? This storm that needs no storm.

If there were but one raindrop,

One moment of this moment,

One mesmerizing, awkward awakening,

We might find ourselves not being.

And find ourselves

Able to dive into the blue

Of your storm.

Would there be a need?

A whim? A want?

There is no such lament

In the psalm of brokenness,

There is no such judgment in beauty.

But beauty itself.

Resides.

In the storm.

And we wait.