Life is an ebb and flow, a storm and its passage, sunrise and dusk; a pattern that repeats and changes.
Life has seasons, they ebb and flow. The sun does not shine through the storm, but it is revealed after its passage, and everywhere within it are signs that it will be; the brilliance of the green being washed anew; the power of the wind and the steadfast patience it signals.
These days have been changing so quickly, from dark to light; cool air warms and then scorches as the sun is revealed again. And as another storm approached and passes the light and the air change again.
I want to turn on the lights in the house at 2:30 in the afternoon, but that would wash away the reflection of the landscape and the deluge it is enduring. I can endure it too. I can let myself be wrapped in its changing colors and sounds, the brief and lasting transformation it ushers.
I have seen storms and brilliant sunrises. They do not always usher and follow one another in tidy succession, but they reflect upon the others power.
The light is brilliant when it shines us on the face; its illumination we must carry, for it is always shining above the clouds.