Recently, under the tumultuous skies of Storm Isha, I lay restless. The world outside, a tempestuous symphony, and within, a quiet, unsettled soul. As I closed my eyes, flashes of dull white, like ghosts of lightning, danced behind my eyelids - a silent storm raging in the void.
In that moment, I felt an energy, strange and unfamiliar, as if the storm itself bore a message, a whispering wind carrying secrets from realms untold. It was powerful, almost sacred, wrapping its invisible fingers around the fabric of the night.
The storm, in its wild embrace, seemed to be more than just nature's fury. It was as if the very essence of the world was shifting, a cosmic tide turning with a force that resonated deep within my bones. In its wake, fragments of thoughts, half-formed and ethereal, lingered like the echo of a dream.
And in the heart of that storm, I sensed a connection - to the earth, to the unknown - an ethereal link, binding yet liberating. The night wore on, the tempest's song fading into the dawn, leaving behind a silence that was both haunting and beautiful.
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