Into the Storm

A storm can mean many things.

Some can be literal and others not so much.

A storm can be real or metaphorical.

Real as nature, or metaphorical as the mind works.

Either way, a storm is sheer beauty.

All is quiet as the mortal stares out into the abyss. She awaits a spectacle, one her mortality has never seen before. Nature and beauty refuse to disappoint her.

The Dance of the Colours.

Swirls of splendour unfold before her eyes, both amazing and stupefying. Captivating and mesmerizing. Shades and tints mix and blend before her very existence. Endless possibilities materialize themselves into utter beauty.

At the command of the rhythm, the colours jump and fold, swirl and toss. They morph and change to the very beat of the soul. Every note is a new world, a new universe, a new lifetime in itself.

The beat is almost mechanical, flawless in its task. It strives for excellence as it guides the notes and melody to perfection.

Bright, joyful colours shine as the melody comes out, singing in perfect synchronization with the rhythm. Once again the beat, the heart of this bliss, makes its presence known. Soft and subtle until it's time comes, the temperamental rhythm stays strong and balanced.

Bursts of colour, dark and dreary, cry out loud along with the melody. They harmonize themselves with the steady rhythm and yell in turn with their sorrow. On and on the joyful melody plays, frolicking with the bright colours of its companion. Bliss comes easy to those who find the silver lining. While others strive and struggle to find happiness in the dark colours and shades of their quickly crumbling lives.

Conversing is something new to colours from either side of the spectrum. The beat is the mediator. It pounds as the middleman, fighting for and with each side.

Negotiating happiness is a hard task, rhythm struggles to find common ground on the two's perspectives. They both yell and scream, happiness and sorrow, joy and pain, both wanting the other to understand, both wanting to be heard and understood. Known and acknowledge. As the two fight, the beat, the mediator, struggles to maintain the calmness and serenity in their world

Finding and understanding unlike any other the dark and dreary colours blend with bright joyful colours and form a neutral. Singing partially joyfully and partially sad. Normal in most eyes. The beat stays strong, guiding and supporting the two in their wise decision.

Relentless to be heard, the bright colours sing on, wanting attention, and taking it by force. Rhythm is silenced as joy takes over mourning for sorrow. Sorrowful colours blend into a bliss of happiness, joyful that they have been heard and understood, welcomed and accepted. Sorrow is joy and joy is sorrowful for what it gave up to give to another.

Understanding the sacrifices made, sorrow gives, in return, of itself to make joy happy again. Colours coincide in happiness and love. Blending to a beautiful harmony as rhythm sits back and watches the beauty unfold.

Can peace last long?

Thinking of themselves again, sorrow and joy return to their selfish ways and yell, screaming in agony and joy. Rhythm realizes and decides it hopeless to tame fiery spirits such as this.

Relenting to the other. Sorrow, joy, and rhythm fight endlessly. Beautiful harmonies, melodies, and beats created from each and every word silently spoken. The beauties of anger, sorrow, and joy all blend together to make a storm of a lifetime.

The colours subside, returning to their worlds where they are happy the most.

Stunned by the depth of such a sight, the mortal recaptures her attention and realizes the battle within herself.

Peace can last as long as there is still joy.