Loneliness

I have a gray sky ---- it doesnt turn blue for me, but still every breath is a gift. Some clouds whir too fast, others too slow. But my voice will be heard. 'Little drops make the mighty ocean.' The cliff can hear the surf, even if it doesnt like what it hears. The mother lion still licks her cub, even when the king eats his heir. And the blackberry bush, with its thorny needles in riotous defense, a shield for sweetness, a sentry for the lonely soul, knows love to be more.