The storm has passed, though thunder marked the years.

The walls once shook with tempests not of rain,

but words that split the sky with jagged fire.

We battled storms beneath a fragile roof,

and called it love while lightning scorched our days.

The parting came—a door that would not close,

a bridge that burned despite my hands of ash.

The covenant lay fractured on the ground,

yet from the shards I saw new light emerge.

The breaking was not death but clearing space.

And when the silence feels too sharp to bear,

I lean on God, whose voice is never gone.

He fills the hollow places with His peace,

a living well that never runs to dust.

No human love can match His endless grace.

Now mornings rise like sunlight after rain.

The air is clean; the silence sings of peace.

I walk unchained, the sky stretched wide above,

my steps kept firm by One who holds my hand,

whose love restores what fire could not destroy.

So here I stand, set free yet not undone.

The storms are past, the soil is rich again.

With Christ I walk into the open fields,

at peace, at rest, made whole in Him alone—

the battles gone, yet beauty grown from fire.