Sometimes there is a river within me, and it flows with a quiet hunger, smooth and cool against the hidden curves of my soul. Its waters trace secret pathways, carrying fragments of memory, longing, and possibility. Step into me then, and you’ll find stillness that holds its own depth, a current that hums with patience, a touch that teaches you how to linger. In the river, every ripple is a song, every shimmer a promise of something waiting just beneath the surface.

But other times, I am a storm, wild, electric, impossible to contain. Lightning dances along my spine in reckless arcs, wind stirs the edges of my restraint until it snaps, and thunder rolls through me like a warning and a call. The air thickens with fire, with friction, with a hunger that refuses to be tamed. To meet me in the storm is to be undone, to be stripped of certainty and remade in the chaos of desire and flame.

I am both river and storm; water that soothes, fire that consumes, calm that lulls you into surrender, and chaos that demands your courage. To love me is to accept the tides and the tempests, to dive into my depths without fear of drowning, to open your arms to my lightning without fear of burning. Only those who can hold both my tenderness and my ferocity will ever know the fullness of what I am.

*I wrote this shortly after a very tumultuous time in my life. It made me stronger. It made me who I am.