As I write, a roll of thunder sounds nearby. The peace that came with the rain is disturbed - and for a moment, there is fear. This tells us so much about life. About our deaths and rebirths, our moments of peace and our times of fear. Because the truth is, sometimes when the soft rains hit the floor, either a rainbow precedes it or a storm. And the ease that came with the soft drops of water are immediately erased by the thunderous sound. And then the soft showers continue in its smooth comforting lullaby.
This is life. A continuous mixture of good and bad times. Of fear and hope. There are the blacks and there are the whites. But if you're wise, you'll get up after the storm and glance out the window, and behold a splendid sight; a rainbow. And it's not all black and white.
If or if not you lift the drapes is what decides your response to the storm. For if you do not stand and look out, how then will you know the effects the storm left - a withered rose, or a tree blooming with the promise of life?
The rain has just stopped, and as I peer out I see gray looming clouds. But under them, I notice a batch of white daisies dancing in the wind.