Rays of promise

Now everything is unfolding. Calm over the tempest. People know now. Everything is not as it seems. The truth. The hate. The anger. And the detachment. I know. I understand.

The weather here seems to be as tumultuous as my mood, and as stormy. Just as the heat intensified to the maximum, at which point my misery reached the peak, suddenly the clouds poured to tell me 'What will be will be.' Que sera sera.

I am detached. I want to be a part of their lives. Yet I have no desire to be an unwelcome intrusion. A thorn. Every thread of communication, be it a scrap here, a message there, stabs at me like a thousand knives. The knives of memories and happiness. A reminder of the gloom ahead without those who matter.

But when I look across the road to the fields where the hay lies neatly sheared and rolled in giant balls across the landscape, I am driven by another force. An electricity. To resist the anchor of foreboding, and agony. To get up. To look up at the sun and smile. To be able to smile without thoughts of the storm, the breaking waters, and the harsh winds. 

Today, the calm claimed me. There are other things. Look for the sunshine. Think, think, think. Remember only if you must. But think most of all. One mistake almost ruined me. But I am still here, scarred on the inside, but smooth on the outside. They would have known it instantly. Now they chose to ignore. If only I had not played. If only I had not strayed.

A voice in my head tells 'This is not all. The sun will shine, brighter and brighter. At the end of the road, they will be there. The 'those' who matter. Do not look. For they will find you.'

And that voice is my ray of hope. Pure and sweet. Full of promise. Full of prayer. Until then Que sera sera!