It started with snow on the ground and a rainbow in the morning clouds. Beautiful.
I see a desert land, happy now in its sand and heat -- a desert that once believed in rain, once held hope of downpours. Faith was once a virtue, feeding the flowers that grew from clay. But the rains never came. The desert cracked, grew brittle. The flowers died. Clouds passed, but the desert learned not to look up. They never brought what was promised.
But today there is thunder. Something in the silent heart begins to breathe. A cloud appears. Is it the rain?
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