Less-ons for the More-on

Gratitude?
What know ye of gratitude?
When clouds are gathering
and skies are darkening,
when rain is pouring
and wind is howling,
when thunder booms,
loud and deafening.

When you sit hunched over,
wrapped in a tattered old blanket,
on the rusty old cot
on the cold stone floor
in the corner of the cold dark room
with crumbling walls,
staring out through
shattered window panes,
shivering as the elements whip
and lash the very essence of your soul.

And it overcomes you,
a foreboding sense of déjà vu,
as if you are reliving a moment
from a time long ago,
the memory, perhaps,
of an ancestor long since passed on -
or perhaps not quite so long ago,
who similarly sought refuge,
curled up in a ball,
wrapped in old, worn furs
on a cold hard rock
in the corner of a cold dark cave
staring out through the opening
into the deep dark void,
cold, shivering and alone,
as you are
or rather will be,
just as you have been,
the elements gnawing and gnashing
at the very heart of their soul.

And they wondered about your future
just as you wonder about their past
or perhaps you are both past
and you are both future,
connected by the present that is,
the piercing cold,
the howling wind,
the pouring rain,
the booming thunder,
the elemental storm,
rending reality asunder.

And the single thread
by which you hold on,
is your immense gratitude
for the sheer magnitude
of the simple fact
that as you take shelter
in your humble abode
and the elements wreak havoc
on the world outside
and threaten you with the same,
you are dry.

#AlhamdulillahAlways

©thoughtjutsu