I love the way that the green leaves of the tallest trees accent the white, grey skies during a cold, cloudy midday.

I see things this way now; once upon a time I didn't.

I saw the gloom that clouds possess and the cold that winter brings. I dismissed the possibility of a good time. A high kite in the sky only to be struck by lightning, such was my heart.

I was only a newborn fawn bound to topple over just because of who I was.

Hopes were unknown and surely never shown in a way to express a firm grip on the present. My abode was in the gifting of struggles, the mix of sea salt within the film of my eye, stinging like astringent on a popped pimple. Everything felt like a fight.

How does a heart grasp at air; things not seen but told are somewhere?

I didn't know this time would come. Words true and heart fully sinking in this expectation, epiphany, and exploration. The lens has changed; the glass which I behold no longer fits my frame, but His.

It doesn't last like you think it will.

Beyond the heartbreak, your heart is still there. It's not crumpled like paper, it's not trampled like trash, it's waiting to be discovered and you should be okay with that.

Soon my love, soon my dear. Your tears are not signs of future insecurity. You are able to bask in the sun's light because you've seen the black of night.

Hold on my love, hold on my dear. The joy shall come because of the tears. Through the waining and waxing, choose what you can see. He has established you like the morning, and the morning always comes.