looked past the imperfections that everyone else saw.
But as quickly as it started, it ended.
Like an afternoon spring shower
or a sudden snowstorm during winter.
When did that storm rise...?
Who and what are to bear the brunt of this squall?
Those imperfections may not have stood the test of time;
it surely did not stand the force of God.
Now all that is left are the pieces to be cleaned up;
the pieces of that once lively enclosure.
Can anything be salvaged?
Time to move on.
I may be stuck with my imperfections
but I still stand after the storm
But, now, I see all of your faults
in all its glory!
And finally
I realize
that it was never meant to be...
The rain blinded me
but the sun has risen
and will dry up all the tears.
The ground will burst anew with life,
and the dead will turn to ash
to fertilize food for the living.
