I stand before the storm and in this calm I ready myself.

Then the storm strikes with thunder and lighting; wind and rain it hammers at me.

But still I stand unbowed, I know I can not beat the storm but nor can I let it beat me.

The storm blocks my sight but in the reflection of its own power I can see, that I'm not alone in my defiance.

For every one that falls before its might, I become more determined to stand tall.

As the storm passes, I see stretched out before me a barren yet fertile field ready to bare the fruits of those will and able to till it.

It take all my energy just to move but I know it do or die so I push myself.

Other do not have even this much strength.

To those near me I offer my hand even as doing saps me of my own strength.

As we stand we each find our burden lessened.

Looking around I see many get dragged by those they sot to help.

More still who simply ignore all other in favor of themselves.

But most disturbingly some who actually sot to hinder others so that they could have more for themselves.

A story made while in High School

I might as well put out this story that I made in High School (unfortunately, since I don't have it anymore, I cannot remember it word for word).

NOTE: Please leave me a comment if you wish to use or publish this in any way.

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   Flash! Fl-Flash! A storm is on the way!
   “About how far is it?”
   “About a half-hour away.”
   The thunder rumbled.
   “Is God angry?” my son asked.
***   It was my 10th birthday. My whole family was there. Mom came out with a cake and everyone was singing “Happy Birthday” to me. Just before I blew out the candles, the lights went out. I saw my dad walk out of the room. I heard him getting the lantern, and walking to the circuit breaker.
   After a little bit of time, “&$#*@ GOD!!! WHY DON'T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?!?!”
   The lights went back on, and shortly after, my dad came back to rejoin us.
   “What was that all about?” my mom asked him.
   “I don't know,” he replied. “It keeps going out more and more often.”
***   The next day I awoke to my mother quickly opening the door. “Get up and get in the cellar!” she demanded.
   “Wha-why?” I asked half-asleep. “It's Saturday.” I rolled over.
   “GET UP!” she yelled as she tore off the blankets.
   I fell out of bed, and almost did a face-plant on the floor.
   “C'MON! WE DON'T HAVE ALL DAY!”
***   As I got outside, I saw a swirling form of doom! God's wrath was upon this place.
   I heard my dad mumbling things. “Is God angry?” I asked.
   “Yes, and I will fight him. I don't care what he thinks.”
   “God will win.”
   “DON'T EVEN GIVE ME THAT BALONEY! NOW GET IN THE CELLAR!!!”
   My family and I, except my dad, went in the cellar... I never saw him again.
***   “DAD!”
   “Huh-what?”
   “Is God angry?” my son asked again.
   “Yes he is, and I will accept his judgment. C'mon, we'll get in the cellar.”