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Storms of LifeTo some the storms of life seem brutal and sharp;
They long for shelter, if only a tarp.
The rain and sleet slice their fragile skin,
Leaving them torn and bleeding within.
Others hear the rolling thunder and cringe,
Hiding from life with a bottle or syringe.
Still others glare as the storm rages round,
Shaking their fists at the lightning's sound.
I see the storms raging within me reflected in the sky,
I smile peacefully, and breathe a contented sigh.
Storms are vital, of raw energy are they borne,
I hear thunder like a clarion battle horn.
Some see the rain and feel gloomy and depressed,
I treasure storms, it's the time I love best.
Storms of life may howl and frighten other men,
Yet like the material weather that makes a fearful din;
It passes soon enough, leaving the world scoured clean;
Granting life anew, and turning a dusty world green.