Some days the sky feels close enough to break,
Each cloud a mirror of what burns inside—
A thousand selves that bloom, or ache, or shake.
The heart runs fast; the mind becomes the tide,
Each wave returning different, never known.
The calm feels false, the storm feels justified.
You reach for love, afraid to be alone,
Yet distance cuts as sharply as the fear.
The wound is ancient, but not carved in stone.
And still, through all the shifting, something clear—
A wish to heal, to hold, to stay, to be.
The self survives, though fragile and sincere.
So speak your name with gentle honesty;
You are not chaos — you are poetry.
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Author:
Matthew R. Callies (
Offline) - Published: March 16th, 2026 05:55
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
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Comments2
It is the last line that gives closure to this wonderful piece that holds in it a sense of nature and all its glory. Most wonderful Matthew
Matthew, this carries a powerful emotional arc. The shifting waves of the mind and heart set the stage, but what stays with me is how it resolves with that gentle affirmation. By the end, the storm isn’t denied…yet the voice chooses compassion. “You are not chaos…you are poetry.” That lands beautifully. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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