The Beauty in the storm

There’s a fire in the mind that never sleeps-

a restless hum beneath the deep.

It burns, it leaps, it will not stay-

but oh, how brightly it lights the way.

They call it scattered, call it loud,

a mind that wanders through the cloud.

But I have seen the view up there-

a thousand worlds, beyond compare.

Where others see a tangled thread,

I see the paths that twist instead.

A sudden spark, a wild idea-

the magic whispers, “You belong here.”

Focus may falter, order may fade,

but wonder is the art I’ve made.

I feel too much, I dream too wide-

and yet, that’s where my heart resides.

For every thought that runs too fast,

there’s one that somehow seems to last.

A kindness, bright and uncontained,

a courage born from being unchained.

So call me storm, call me flame,

call me by my truest name-

not broken, not too much to be,

but vivid, boundless-beautifully me.