Oh how we forgo the simple pleasures of a thunderstorm,
And the mystifying fog that follows right after.
The self-imposed entrapment of limiting ideas
Is not so different to denying ourselves a little rain.
Hot dry heat becomes a necessary reminder
In all sorts similar to a scolding after a misdeed.
It is comforting to know forgiveness is near,
Around the bend like the looming end of hell fire’s torture.
Soon the water will fall from up high and run deep;
Do not forgo the opportunity of showing gratitude for the rain