There's a time and a place where everything appears to be fine; calm, steady. But, the calm means something, cloudy with a chance of tornado. Sometimes you have to believe that, the coming storm is good. Even when the clouds dance and grumble in their darkness and varying shades of grey. The clouds always hold the hope of a rainbow. A figurative kaleidoscope of hope.
Sometimes I make sense. Sometimes I make you think. Sometimes I just need to write.
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