The power comes in waves. Triumphant,
with the windows down and music loud.
Later, alone, with the rain for company,
All is quiet, and so much heavier.
I'd welcome a middle ground:
Rain, with a bit of song.
Windows down, ears filled with only wind.
Power laced with mortality.
Power tempered by prudence.
Strength in vulnerability.
Answers whispered before the questions
are even asked.
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