In Shambles

Some sunshine will

Allow itself to shine

Amongst your rubble, and she, with a

Smile and a ponytail, will

Grab your hand to tell you

Where to go and

Who to be

And how lucky you must be

To feel the sun on your face

After so many stormy nights.

And you will break

And crumble,

But not in the worst way.

We all come to terms with it

In our own time,

Quietly whispering the answers that we’ve found

To other lost souls,

And we are no longer

Quite as desperate.

This storm will not continue.

— Ernest Hemingway

— Unknown