The Raven

The rain poured down like the tears of one in mourning. All that one could hear was the clouds, crying out in vain. Every so often, the earth was illuminated by a flash of lightening.

And in all this, we find the raven. Cold, wet, miserable, frightened, unable to fly against the howling wind to shelter.

So he stays, shivering, in his tree. But even the tree seems to be mournful this night; its branches hang down with the weight of the rain, they too weeping, grieving for things lost.

Soon, the sun will try and struggle its way up above the horizon. But until then, the raven must be patient, and strong, and brave the storm.

This is life. This is the struggle we face every day. We all wait for the sun to rise and make everything better and right.

We are all ravens.

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