Rainbows are supposed to make the storm worth it.
They symbolize so much throughout our everyday,
but I could maybe count the number I’ve seen in person,
How do I gather the strength then, to look for the rainbow
When its appearance feels fickle at best?
A trick of the eyes with the water, the right variables needed in the air,
to cause the combination of colors to become visible.
I have to trust the warmth of the sun,
And the persistence of the raindrops
I have to accept the clouds and all they carry, and then, maybe,
I can be blessed with the Perfect Storm
resulting in the rainbow, a reminder of hope in a gloomy day.
I realized I weathered my own uproar before the light shined on you,
making you the new center of my solar system,
trusting the elements of Fate to rearrange the cosmos,
and bend my course to you.