storm coming in the dry dead lands through the dark clouds and foggy breezes hovering over the sand
can’t help but spread the fact that the greatness of the land is not the plant firmly rooted but the cultivating and remembrance of the roots, including the present cry for a drop of water with much vulnerability as dehydration starts taking place
you can see the face amongst fellow traveling strangers
yet, there are still many who remain and stare with questions never asked. it is not merely a choice to be the one who digs into this land with mighty strength and bravery but a mere drop of the reality, the storm breaking in any time now, collecting all fruits and vegetations of life and it is not ours to choose but to be once we see we cannot help but to fill your buckets with life. selah, storm’s coming in, don’t rush for shelter yet with your empty heart that will restrain all sort of protection but learn that it is the rain where the true love is gained and then, be.