A misty landscape of turmoil, strife and complete ecstasy.
A landscape to wade through,
A dark river to pan for gold.
The good times, the bad,
All passing, within a state of change,
The storms don’t define us, nor does the gold.
Then what defines us?
A deep question for deep meanings.
Those turbulent moments,
Where rage swirls,
People cry and can’t cope.
Bolster yourself against the storm.
Hold onto hope for what the times will bring next.
You never find gold by giving up the journey.
Never find peace without letting go of your troubles storms.
Find friends, to hold,
On through those tough times,
Who will guide you, help you, keep you on track.
As you would do for them.
That is how collectively we escape the turmulteous times, the turbulent storm.
Hold those dear to you.
They hold back.
And we shall walk through these turmultous times.