2025-05-09-2
The Soul Would Have No Rainbow
If the eyes had never wept their storms,
Nor trembled in the night alone,
The soul would drift in shapeless forms,
Unmoved by joy it’s never known.
What light would mean without the dark?
What bloom without the bitter frost?
Each tear that falls, a sacred spark—
A testament to what was lost.
The breaking heart, the whispered plea,
The silence when no voice replies—
Are threads that weave, in mystery,
The colors arching through our skies.
A rainbow born from rain and light,
From sorrow mingled deep with grace—
It curves across the soul’s own night
And paints with hope the wounded space.
So let the tears come when they must,
For in their salt, the spirit grows—
And from the ashes of our trust,
A brighter, braver beauty glows.
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