Everything Thrives

Not often but always I see this sinking trail,

Over the quiet hills and on the distant rail;

The melancholic skies stretch into an endless semi-circle,

Too bleary-eyed to hope for a miracle;

The never changing terrain envelopes the dampened pine trees,

So unbelievably green that it sets your eyes free;

The desolate creek never seems to lose its charm,

Even when its blood-red waters set off alarms;

The distant mists slowly drift ever so closer until you breathe it in,

There is nothing but clouds that appear to rise from within;

The wandering winds, the inescapable drizzle,

Rusts everything from the hammer to the chisel,

The dampness of the land seeps into your very soul,

And leaves behind clues on how to make the memories of bygone eras whole;

But eventually there is a crack in the heavens that slowly widens,

And life spills through penetrating the numbness leaving everything heightened;

The profound feeling of deepest satisfaction soaks in leaving you revived,

Another day has passed and everything's thrived.