Poets logo

Every Storm Shall Pass

And the sun shall shine again

By Colleen Millsteed Published 2 years ago 1 min read
Image courtesy of Pixabay

The mountains in the distance smile down upon those that toil,

Lofty in their ideals and worthy of their height,

The winds traverse the valleys and climb the knolls effortlessly,

Whispering future secrets into the star-filled nights.

**

Meanwhile dreams are interrupted, nightmares roll with the punches,

Storm clouds begin to descend, bringing tears of rain on parched thoughts,

Songs of lullabies are clashing above the clouds as the gods argue,

Deafening those hopes and dreams until all are out of sorts.

**

Many wallow within their fears, praying for the morning dawn,

With light comes an enormous load off shoulders, fully burdened and downcast,

Decisions show up and begin knocking down front doors,

While the ice-cold winds freeze the anxiety hovering with its arctic blast.

**

Trust is regained on the rising of the sun,

A new understanding that it’s better to let go; what will be will be,

All is well upon the land of immense possibilities,

And the downtrodden begin to smile, their problems set free.

**

Silence is a blessing filled with fortitude and calm,

The storm leaves the day cleansed, shining through the darkest clouds,

Twitters of song reach those ears that listen carefully,

And yesterday’s shadows are drenched within the fearless sun’s shrouds.

**

Warmth seeps into broken hearts, tears dry upon wrinkled faces,

Eyes open to the birthing of a future destined to unfold,

Heartbeats slow, smiles return, frowns disappear,

While memories turn into fabulous stories that need to be told.

**

Love reaches across the distance and holds the life-healing hugs of eternity,

Those that feel alone meet to ward off the lonely and destitute,

Years span, full of golden opportunities,

And faith glistens in eyes that once denied to refute.

**

Life is but a wave of ups and downs,

Governed by those that learned the art of the surf,

Riding waves until the descent twists and turns into the crescent,

And for a whiff of a second, there is a gift of rebirth.

inspirational

About the Creator

Colleen Millsteed

My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.

Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.

Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.

Subscribe For Free

Reader insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment
    Written by Colleen Millsteed