A Refrain
I think it is in adversity, that character is revealed. The top soil tilled away, showing the loam or sand beneath. It is in the hardest times we rise or fall to ourselves, leaving to gather what is left of us.
And it could not be a facade, we assemble in hardship. The glamourous , impossible to hoist, when wind is blowing hard. Instead, we run for cover, or lay ourselves bare to natures wrath, being what we will be.
My!, the cruelty of the storm, it’s naked force on flesh and bone, it’s mindless rage, at we, it does not know. There seems no caring, no mindfulness, this turning angry at our innocence. It does so with blindness , or so it always seems.
The more I live, the more l think, the contrary. There seems to me another force, that grows deep inside tears. That speaks to this disquiet mind, that labors in despair. And if we know what love can be, then this must be it’s force. Seen more clearly , so, with the bleeding of the heart.
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