Sheltered From the Storm
Fear not the storms that pass in the night,
for at morning's light only rain remains;
but those that linger in the minds of men,
Gaining strength with no grounding to calm them.
Shun not the rotted fruit, long picked from the vine,
for it's wine is the sweetest on the lips;
but the rotted heart that lies in waste
makes bitter the good that get too close.
Love not the beauty of paint and fine linen,
for it will fade and wear away;
but the beauty from deep within
stays sweet, sheltered from the storm.
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