The woods are calm with mystery and light
Yet the river come through rushing day and night
The woods love the river for life and joy
Yet the river thinks the woods are only their toy.
The river thinks he needs no one playing under the sun
While the woods depend on the river that runs.
So the river makes use of the woods company
But the wood fears the river is denying honesty.
The river needs the woods despite how he feels
Cuz the woods stay strong by their side all the years,
The years that have given floods and droughts in the past,
While the woods had been there, to help the river move fast.
Yet the river is unthankful and cares not for the woods
Despite the woods love and needs the river running through it
So the river one day dries up and leaves
Now the woods will die slowly, in pain from river’s greed.
The river may never know the pain it has caused,
Because the river only see’s life through its own eyes.
So now the woods are dead and gone,
And the river has no woods to keep moving on.
It’s sad how a river that can bring such life
Can hurt woods around them, never caring or denying-it’s not right.
So next time the river finds some new woods,
Better hope he won’t forget to appreciate his woods.
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The slow, dry, seemingly unavoidable death of the woods following the drying up of the ungrateful river must fill the hearts of the trees with terror and indescribable pain; such is the case for all victims of such separation, all the more so when the previous companionship was once so vital and deeply connected. And yet, when the season is right, the rains may come and fill up the riverbed with new, pure water once again, which the parched roots of the trees will soak up with greater delight than they ever thought possible; the leaves will become more deeply green, and the flowers bloom more brilliantly than ever before, because of their preparation by the very drought that once brought such horror.
All allegories aside, the pain of such significant loss may overwhelming. Moments of hope for the future may be followed by crashes of despair. It may seem like it will never get better. It may seem as if those to whom you turn, despite their best intentions, do not fully understand your suffering; the truth is, unless they have had the same experience, they in fact do not understand. However, if you keep pressing forward, there will come a day, perhaps months or (full disclosure) even years distant, when suddenly, almost unexpectedly, the pain dramatically eases, and moments of hope and joy begin to greatly outweigh moments of sorrow and regret. There is fulfillment, joy, and happiness far greater than your pain awaiting you. It may seem too far distant now, but it is true. Believe it. Hold on to the hope of it. Press forward, and don’t you dare give up. It will come.