strange days have found me

It is the strangest thing. It's like the silence after a storm. You can't really believe it is over, but your ears still tingle and ring and you look around and see the shattered houses and uprooted trees, a soft breeze plays with your hair.
Strange days have found me. I once let my heart fly and it found a nest in your little hand. Like a robin redbreast it sang into the evening skies. And now I walk the same streets and I see the same trees and the same houses and the same corners and the same places and since yesterday night I am strangely quiet inside.
It's as if I reached a point of... I don't dare to speak of it yet, it has to be a whisper, maybe even not. It is not indifference, it is peace. Coming to terms. Not hurting every second. Thinking of you without wanting to cry and yearn. Coming back into the middle.
I almost feel guilty for this peaceful feeling inside. Can it be true? But then I realize: I have to savor it, roll it around in my mouth as long as it tastes good. Because the silence after the storm might as well be the silence before the storm.


So be good to yourself until it hits you again. And then be prepared.
Warrior.