In the Tempest of Life

Before the Tempest rises, a tense stillness lies over all souls. Some carry their storm quietly within, gentle, sensitive, hidden from the world, filled with pain and quiet suffering. Others chase the eye of the storm, wild, passionate, seeking clarity, wrestling with fear, doubt, and inner unrest. Still others stand at the edge and sweep everything aside, radical, powerful, leaving only the raw energy of the Tempest, and even they know the anguish that precedes every whirlwind.

Between them lie the exhausted souls, lying on the ground where no wind blows, and the sun-seekers, who prefer light, calm, and peace, all part of the same sky, all shaped by pain, fear, passion, and hope.

After the Tempest has raged, a quiet vastness spreads. Each role is a thread in the fabric of the Tempest, each experience contributes to its rhythm, joy, fear, pain, passion, rest. No storm is ever the same, and every soul finds its place within it: in raging, in searching, in lingering, in light, in shadow, in pain, in stillness, before and after the Tempest.