Wales. The beauty beneath the looming clouds.

A land commonly associated with rain.
I had stayed there for a while now.
A while where seconds ticked by like minutes,
Minutes that struggled to keep up with my ever changing plans.
This was the visit that mad me look down at my feet,
When I should have been charging straight ahead into the battlefield.

Harsh grey clouds lingered like unloved guests.
It seemed gloomy clouds had been swamping the skies for many days now.
The thing is.
I wouldn’t know.
How was I supposed to look out for when the sun kissed the horizon good night
When the sky itself was matted with thick layers of grey.

With thick clouds came fat drops of rain.
Which lead to the tight shutting of doors
and the slow crackle of fires.
The misery of outside consumed us.
Sometimes, I cracked open a window just to breath in the earth once more,
but instead I was greeted by a gust of air that seeped inside me and sapped my last remaining hopes from within me.

A week later we decided to brave the cold.
It fought hard,
snapping at our heels
and whispering harsh taunts down our backs.

Until finally,
we came across a lake.

The sight alone nearly drowned me in a tidal wave of my own form of depression.
Damp hair hang on my pallid cheeks like seaweed stuck to a clam.
I was my own bully,
beaten down again and again by my own pure disappointment.

In a moment of loss,
The winds changed.

The clingy clouds began to part and a clear blue sky emerged.
After days of hiding behind tumbling mountains of thick green forests.
The sun appeared from beneath the shadows cast by looming clouds.
A comfortable breeze brushed the surface of the frozen lake,
Forming ripples that caught light brighter than any fluorescent.

In front of me,
Shone an ocean.
A tad murky,
The deep depths held stories just begging to be told.
This, was a sea so vast and clear
That if you looked into it,
You would not only see a reflection,
But a glimpse into your soul.
A beauty so rare that,
at a glance,
A nonbeliever would have faith.
A man of envy would forgive.
A man of pain would just, smile, and give thanks for just being alive.

To this day
I’ve never seen a gem so rare,
A flower so beautiful.

Because in comparison to a sky as pure as truth itself.
It would still shine brighter.

This was a poem I wrote for Wales and the beauty beneath the looming clouds.


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