some poetry on an overcast friday...

And The Greatest

by john blase thebeautifuldue


Until your tears have fermented

they are only water,

easily mistaken for raindrops.

But should you endure the season

your grief might turn to wine,

your sadness might become

the spirit others will travel

far and wide to taste.

Know that the season is often long,

the weather harsh and inappropriate. 

There are no guarantees.

Only hope, wait, and see remain.

And the greatest of these is hope.