This Too Shall Pass


I speak for a few, but here we do things differently. Minor things are major for others, and for some, they’re nothing at all.
Everyone has different kinds of pain, everyone was raised to have a different sense of right and wrong, and therebetween, and it brings pain all the same to us.
The grounds in which we base our depressions are different, but the pain is all the same, and for that I have but one answer; this too shall pass.
Sadness and sorrow are but rain clouds passing over you, the mountain, and although what it rains down will slide upon your slopes it will eventually get to the bottom as runoff, as a byproduct of what it first was and something far less worse.
The clouds pass, the runoff leaves the mountain, and what is left serves to feed new growth: without rain we would have no trees, no plants or the birds and bees. No flowers to stare at for hours and leaves for the breeze; this storm is necessary but temporary, this too shall pass.
All in due time.

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This Poems Story

The thesis of the eleventh chapter of one of my books; it takes bad things to appreciate the good things.