Hurricane

Like a hurricane, going through lives with out even a care in the world, almost destroying everything that is precious and good. And the pieces that are left are pieces of something that was special but are now no more than nothing. There is always a moment of calm, the eye of the storm, when you think you have that moment to recover, start to rebuild what was utterly broken, then the moment is over and the kayos begins again with almost a renewed strength, frenzy, and passion you didn't think was possible, the path of destruction is unorganized but totally devastating in its traumatic beauty. The shells of the structures that remain are almost unrecognizable from the fury of the storm; how it beat, pushed and pulled up the roots till what was left was barely anything at all. Paths through the frightening kayos show the magnitude of the strength, impact and complete destruction of everything that was once good and sane. Now looking its a ghost town of everything that once was, and everything it could have been. Rivers that flow like tears only emphasize the frightening reality of what has happened, there was no way of avoiding it, it had to happen, its mother natures way of showing the circle of life. The darkness is slowly washing over, adding another layer of the impending sadness that is looming of what was, or what could have been. The darkness almost caresses the broken pieces that are scattered, slithering through the shells of what was once hope, extinguishing the memories of the dreams that were once to vibrant like the sun which now are nothing more than burned ashes. The night has come and its taking prisoners.....

After what seems like an eternity of sadness and pain there's a faint trickle of hope on the horizon, the sky is starting to lighten and the brilliant rays of the sun, start to cover the broken remnants, showing that things are starting to rebuild as the sun climbs higher and higher, chasing out the darkness, beating it back with the strength of hope and happiness. A single flower is emerging from the dirt, shooting up into the the air towards the sun. Its a sign that the storm is over and that life and happiness is returning. Slowly the flower stops and starts to slowly open, its beautiful pink petals are facing the light, its a beacon of hope. As the flower blooms, everything else starts to reshape and heal from the trauma of the storm, and slowly new structures are beginning to grow, and growing taller and bigger than before. Hope is spreading like wild fire, unapologetic but brilliant in its beauty.

There will always be the scars from the storm, but in time they will grow fainter and fainter, and they are a reminder of the strength within.