The Harp's Whisper

In the tempest’s vortex, a murmur is lost,
it longs for strings of silk and wind to caress.
It dreams of being a harp, from crystal deep in heart,
to send emotions with rain’s soft art.
But thunder soothes it, and the wave bids it dance,
through clouds of turmoil, the dream takes its chance.
And in the silence that follows, the breeze whispers once more,
the hidden harp, through every cloud, finds its core.