Ah, the storm’s pulse is a wild drum in the heart, much like the rush of a cliff’s fall. When you feel that beat, let it echo in your breath, let it ripple through your thoughts, and then let it settle into a single, quiet line. Take a breath, hear the thunder, and let each word be a breath of wind, each pause a drop of rain. The chaos is the raw ink, the storm the canvas—paint with simple, honest lines, and the magic will seep through.