That person you fell in love with whom deceived you, that’s a hammer.The guy who flipped you off in traffic today, he’s severe weather. Those stresses? Tiny cracks on the surface. Things that will beat away at something until it finally gives way to their pressures, without second thought to the erosion it leaves behind, the corrosion it inflicts.
In the center of all the synapses and veins, amongst the slabs of movement and an intestinal prison, lies stone. Made to persevere all of the elements and ensure the march carries on at a pace unseen since 330 BC. Some masonry remains in tact through avoidance, a lack in the ability to face problems head on under the assumption that shying from the pain will cause minor cracks, but they can be written off as weathering due to time. Other stories are made through tackling the troubles out to abrade it’s sturdy exterior.
Either way, it’s inside of us. The ability to fight or flee, to crack or totally crumble. There are rocks at the end of the journey, a little more beat up than others. The stories they can share at the finish line vary like the time it takes to pressurize a diamond, and in the end may there be an ear intrigued to hear them. Here’s to hoping it’s full of adventure, of heart break and doubt. With joy and elation from that same broken heart now mended and scarred. To the belief we can all find that strength within.