I walk where the sky weeps.
I listen to the thunder not in fear, but in recognition.
The storm is not my enemy—it is my echo.
Raindrops baptize my skin, lightning stirs my soul.
I am not lost in the weather—
I am found.
I listen to the thunder not in fear, but in recognition.
The storm is not my enemy—it is my echo.
Raindrops baptize my skin, lightning stirs my soul.
I am not lost in the weather—
I am found.
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