The Storm Within Poem by ashok jadhav

The clouds assemble, heavy with intent,
And wind begins to whip across the field.
I feel the same unrest that shakes the sky,
A tempest rising in my chest and mind.
Each breath is charged, each pulse a restless drum,
As if the air itself conspires with thought.
Rain lashes down, a torrent unrestrained,
And in its fury I release my weight.
The thunder speaks the words I cannot voice,
The lightning mirrors sudden bursts of grief.
I scream, I shiver, yet the storm does not judge,
It only moves, and in its motion, frees.
When quiet comes, and puddles mirror skies,
The heart lies still, cleansed by its own torrent.
The tempest passes, leaving room for peace,
And what was bound in silence finds its voice.
The storm within, once feared, becomes a guide,
A channel for the pressure we contain.