Windows of Continuity

The storm was never meant to stay,
only to bend the light another way.
Rain crossed the glass, then disappeared,
leaving the distant world more clear.

We slept without surrendering time,
dreaming in movements without a line.
No road beneath us, no need to run,
yet somewhere within, another journey begun.

Perhaps rest was never standing still,
but giving motion another will—
a quieter current, a different sea,
a moment of balance simply to be.

Then morning opened another view,
the clouds still passing, the distance new.
Nothing was lost when the darkness moved;
even the storm had something to prove.

We rise with the sound of what carried through,
memory changing its shape into something new.
Not every beginning needs an ending to see—

some are just windows
of continuity.