In the childhood life is soft and warm
later comes a cold rough storm.
The dark storm approaches the lush green field,
One can either fight, or they can yield.
It leaves the weak shattered and the strong ice cold,
it sinks the ship of the jolly sailor bold.
One keeps sinking in the sand the harder that he tries,
after the dark nights, sunshine is the prize.
Angels become demons, friends become foes,
the harder you try to hold on to the moment, the faster it goes.
the sights seem blurry and the sounds inaudible,
only problems and no solutions, oh its horrible.
Life is not a novel, life is a fable,
Only the wise one survives who can keep his mind stable.
Rich or poor, the destination is the same,
At death's door, there is no use of money or fame.
The storm lasts short but it feels like an eternity,
Its not your eyes, but your mind that lacks clarity.
The storm has the power to bring the strongest to their knees,
you need to fight the storm and rise, don't be the one who flees.
The smart one prepares while the novice tries to outrun,
You need to endure the suffering, no one said it would be fun.
The storm will reveal which friends are true and which are fake,
Who are there to give and who are there to take.
Driving in the sunshine you come to a sudden halt,
Trusting them blindly was your only fault.
You need the strength of the muscle less than the strength of your mind,
Happiness lies within, it is not out there to find.
Finally the storm passes, you see the dead and the survivors who dug out,
"You run away from the storm" that is not what its about.
You neither be as soft as a pillow nor as hard as stone,
You be wise and stable, and happy all alone.
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