The stump

A flash of lightning followed by a crack of thunder as the rain nurtures the earth. Though the weather may seem fierce, it is necessary. My heart wants to cry with the rain, but my mind wont let it. 

A blue-jay flys through the storm. There is so much symbolism in this moment but my mind can’t process it. Why is my heart so heavy in this moment? Why do I get lost in this feeling? 

The wind picks up, moving the trees with expression. I notice puddles forming around a tree stump. It used to be a beautiful tree until someone cut it down. Now it gets stepped on, kicked, rained on, and for the most part, ignored. It just stays there, right next to the mud puddle, watching it’s friends and family reach up to the sky and dance with the wind in the rain. Still, and lifeless. 

I don’t want to be that stump anymore. 

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