Spire

The day after whirlwinds are so simple in their clarity, so light in their stillness. There's nothing earth-shattering to their insight, they just wait by the foot of your bed, unassuming. You wake with air in your lungs, as if you'd found a part of yourself you'd forgotten. You've felt joy before, you remember it now, it wasn't always a struggle to feel purpose. How New York can feel easy, obvious, how with the right spark plug it doesn't have to be so much work. 

You don't know how to make the right concoction, how to align the stars so the magic happens. But it's good to be reminded that they can make it happen all on their own. 

All you have to do is stick around long enough
to let them.