Drifting On

But storms do not last - even the violet ones. As dawn approached, the first birds began to sing; tentative, uncertain, as if testing whether the world was ready to begin again.

And in that fragile light, something shifted. Not a return to what was, but a quiet acceptance of what could be.

The storm had passed. Its colour lingered. But the path ahead, though faint, was finally visible.

Lyrics

The dawn arrives without a sound.
A pale horizon, hollow ground.
The storm has passed, the colours gone,
But something in me lingers on.

The threads unwind, the echoes fade,
A borrowed debt I never paid.
The night retreats, the ache lives on
A quiet pulse that pulls me on.

Pulling me, an undertow
To places I may never know.
Every silence, every dawn,
Pulls me forward, never gone.

The marks we made on borrowed time,
Blur softly into fragile rhyme.
The spell now dust, the storm withdrawn,
Yet still that violet breath lives on.

If I could rest, if I could stay,
Or fold the night back into the day,
Would all this weather finally calm,
Or draw me back where it began?

Pulling me, an undertow
To places I may never know.
Every silence, every dawn,
Brings me back to where it shone.
That whisper from a distant storm,
Still moving me, still shifting form,
Its colour fading, never gone,
And so the violet ache moves on.