Continuity
In that calm before the storm
tranquility’s bittersweet,
though, no two tantrums are alike,
nature self-defends;
Never staid,
she rides her tides hanging ten
and reaps her reward.
The prize is not always golden
but the fight is necessary.
The wandering breeze locates her
opponents and she’ll throw down
the gauntlet;
accepting the challenge,
we weather the storm.
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