There will always be a storm.
A light drizzle, or a cyclone.
A blizzard in the middle of summer.
Maybe even a hurricane.
There will always be a storm.
But it will always pass.
I can't always live on the mountaintop.
Near God.
I have to go down the mountain.
To Grow.
I don't always like the valley.
The valley is where the hurricanes hit.
The valley is where it rains.
And rains.
And rains.
The rain stops.
It brings forth new life.
And I start the ascent again.
Often another storm hits me,
Sends me sliding down.
I cry out,
"Why? For what purpose?"
And hear my echo fly away.
I haven't stopped climbing.
Not yet.
God help me if I do.
I'll need all the help I can get.
