Drops of Night

The thunderstorm stitches itself to the heart of night,
with threads of rain that restore breath.
Lightning is golden threads trembling upon the world’s chest,
every drop tells a promise never spoken.
When the rumble falls silent, the canvas remains alive,
and the soul resumes its rhythm between wind and dark.
The promise remains hidden among the folds of water,
a possible return, never daring to be spoken.