Deafening Clouds

The clouds gather not quietly; they roar in swollen masses, demanding attention, casting shadows heavy as regret. They press upon the hills, fold over the seas, and drown the world in grey anticipation. Even the sun trembles beneath their weight, a muted witness to their fury. I have walked beneath such skies, feet soaked in hesitation, heart pounding with unasked questions. Love falters here, betrayal echoes sharper, and every promise feels borrowed, fragile as the wind. Yet within the tumult, a strange clarity emerges: storms do not last forever, and silence follows even the loudest fury. Each flash, each crash, each sigh teaches endurance, the patient knowledge that what is heavy now may yet lift. Deafening clouds are not enemies, but heralds warning, shaping, reminding that even in overwhelm, light finds the smallest fissure through which to enter.