Not a poem, but a story, of sorts.

[shadowx]

I thought of this a few days ago and posted a revised version in one of the threads here, on the bus this morning i expanded it to become more of a story format.

In the ocean stood a rock tower, reaching high into the sky and in it's shadow an island paradise. On top birds made their homes and rested as they watched the sun rise and set over the ocean. It had stood for many years and been home to many generations of birds, until one night a storm roared in the distance. The birds fled as the sea became angry and the wind screamed.

The storm tore at the tower all night turning the soft stone from rock to dust. The water rushed into the cracks and tore the rock apart from the inside and carried away the fragments until finally the sun rose. And when it did the rock had changed. Beneath it's sandstone shell a mighty pillar of granite waited, and now the guardian stood uncloaked. It's smooth dark shape slowed the waves so the beach behind was calm and the inhabitants taught their young of the beauty of the water.

But it couldnt last, soon another storm roared in the distance. The animals fled inland as the waves and wind tore at the solid granite. The guardian resisted but the storm only grew until once again it crumbled the rock and tore into the pillar. The storm was fierce but soon the sun rose and glinted and sparkled in the face of the protector.

Where the mighty granite once stood was something different. Within it had waited a tower of diamond solid and perfect now it stood on it's own, strong and defiant.

But soon another storm roared in the distance Like hell on earth the wind tore the sky and turned the sea into pure hatred. The creatures on the island looked to the protector and to the storm, but they did not fear. The storm and darkness came and as the wind screamed into the protector it's screech became a whistling song like a thousand birds singing through the night. The waves as they crashed into the protector were turned into beautiful patterns of swirls and ripples as they danced their way gently to the shore behind.

The storm grew but the song only became more beautiful and the dancing ripples more intricate until the storm could give no more and the sun rose to show the protector unmoved the island unchanged.

The diamond protector stood forever more and each storm was turned into song and dance by it's purity and the island behind grew and flourished in the reflected light of the protector. No storm would ever reach the island's shores again.


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More often than not it is the bad times that shape us and make us who we are, and it takes destruction to truly release us from the shell we create around ourselves. The good times are only a chance to show our new found strength and courage. Storms do not have a reason, but that does not mean we cannot use their destruction for good and *Give* them a reason.

While the bad times may feel like they take a part of us, it is not something we should obsess about, instead look at what remains. The 5 of cups, if anyone has Tarot, is a perfect example. Do not cry over the spilt milk, instead make use of the milk you still have.