we surge

We move like rivers,
wild and restless,
carving paths through stone.
We ask for nothing
and take only the storms,
the quiet,
the space to flow.

The sky scatters its colors
without care,
its storms unfurling
for no one.
Its beauty is its own,
its calm indifferent.

Music hums where silence falters,
pulling the broken together.
It lingers in the edges,
where jagged voices
find their song.

Life gives itself in fragments:
the salt of skin,
a voice in the dark,
the laughter that splits the night.

We are storms.
We are wild.
We rise.