𝓝𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓟𝓸𝓮𝓽𝓻𝔂

𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚜

It was hot all afternoon, so hot that the street baked under the sun.

But the heat didn't last all too long. Gray clouds rolled in, darkening the skies above. Making everything seem a little dimmer. We were grateful for the sun's bashfulness, but we wished the sky wasn't so solemn without it.

All light was gone it seemed, torrents of rain began to come down as if God himself was weeping over us. The trees sulked under the pressure and everything was cold. Perhaps the sun wasn't so bad after all.

The rain lasted for quite a while, and it felt like we all took a breath once it slowed down to a drizzle. Finally, the worst was over.

But where was the sun?

Everything was still dark and chilly. We had gotten our hopes up in vain. The sun still holds a grudge against her children who've turned their backs on her. What have we done?

Then there was a flicker.

A little glowing light close to the soaked grass. Then another, along with two more. Two more became three, three turned into four until the whole meadow was filled the little lights as far as the eye can see.

Hope was not lost.

When the heavens above fail to hear your cries, it turns out the very ground you walk on will answer instead.