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Eventually

Hearts may have shattered,
Backs may have been stabbed,
Minds may have been battered,
Tears may not have been dabbed,

I shall not return the favour!
I am not the thunder that scolds and scream,
I shall shed endless rain upon the valleys,
And flow with the river that drips and streams,

The cloud can only hold so much,
It gets heavier in coldness, white turns into grey,
Covering the beauty of the peaks with its touch,
Forceful lightning strikes in display,

Flooding the banks with tears so heavily,
The floods will clear soon enough, 
The settled sediments of which flowers grow so fairly,
An empty space for new beauty to thrive in the rough.

The cloud never question the need for thunder to roar,
As the wind knows for the eagles who soar.
This is the nature of being. Let it set within,
Forgiveness is not to free the predator, but to release shackles from the victim.


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