The Calm

Life is like a book, read in stormy rains,

When the winds and thunder shook.

The words upon the page.

The silence of the eye,

Within the torments blow.

As it quietly passes by,

Bringing rainbows in the morrow.

It’s colors flare and shine,

The sun will then remind.

What’s wet will always dry.

Before the winds of time in peace will finally die.

And reap of what is sowed.

Like tears to dry blue eyes.

And tranquility in tempestuous skies.

As the stillness remnants slow.