by Esther Mills

Created on: September 07, 2009   Last Updated: September 15, 2009

Tranquility rests over valleys and hills

(it's too good to last -

a storm's rising fast).

As long as you look at the ground, then it feels

like you're flying high...

then you look at the sky.

Across the horizon there flashes a light;

it could be a feeling or burst of insight,

but somehow you know that a storm is abroad.

No shelter's around, so you then turn to God.

Nowhere to escape as the rain rushes down -

you wish for the end,

alone now; no friend

who wants to be with you between sky and ground,

sharing with you

what you're going through,

and your eyes are opened to what it's about.

All roads of life do not take the same route.

"Unfair!" Is your sole cry, as others before

have cried out, betrayed; but they cry out no more.

The storm is now dying, it's moving away.

It may have been fast

but memories last.

You can't help but wonder who next will fall prey

to storms of this kind;

you try to unwind

for now it is over, and life must go on

although even small pain won't leave at the dawn.

You realize with sadness that once you are wet,

how dry you are now is as dry as you'll get.

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