I am the storm that breaks mountains.
I have never met a barrier I could not shatter.

The Sun thinks she knows better.
Soft thing. Weak thing.

“But people show themselves to me,” she claims.

I laugh like thunder.
Watch me work.

I descend with everything I have.
Torrential downpours. Relentless assault.

Their masks should crumble.

Still they pull their defenses tighter.
Heads down. Guards up. Hearts locked.

I rage harder.

They close off more.

When I finally stop, gasping, they scatter like leaves.

The Sun says nothing.

She simply… exists.
Warmly.

Something shifts.

A stranger makes eye contact.
Someone laughs—actually laughs.
Conversations bloom. Stories spill onto sidewalks.

Today I learned the difference between breaking and opening.

The mightiest winds cannot move a heart.
Only warmth can.