Who am I, Who are you

		As if it feared the dark clouds which were to appear, the grass shivered. Dusty wind, harbinger of what was to come, shook the grass, twirled, twisted, bend it. The silence, which is typical before a storm, had left, the remnants of the previous good weather had seemingly silenty disappeared. Several minutes ago warm wind, butterflies and an overwhelming amount of peacefullness had dominated this place. Warmth had been all over, flowers had been dancing to that secret rythm which seemed to influence the bee's and birds too. <br><br>Luck is a rare good, it's presence is the start of it's disappearance. As soon as you get ahold of it, you lose it - just because you got it in the first place. So one has to inhale every second, enjoy every minute, record every timeframe. Real luck is a rare good, it's what we admire the most - and nobody can keep it longer than for a short amount of time.<br><br>And just as the happiness, warmth and friendship had left, luck had vanished too. Gone to a secret place, waiting to, or not to, reappear.<br><br>Like heavy tears, falling down from a crying heaven, the black clouds had turned the once happy scene into debris. The thick water made the plants feel their added weight; with a sad look they seem to crumble under the additional burden. The bee's - those who could survive - had hidden. Thunderbolts had changed the overall view of the scene, had given a well-known place a new face, unveiled previously unknown details.<br><br>The happy feeling will come back again. Sooner or later. Luck will come back too. Sooner or later. Whether it might happen here remains to be seen. Whether this place will find back to it's old beauty remains to be seen. The future is known for always taking the course which we expect the least.<br>Thunder and rain can be a good starting ground for a plethora of new plants, animals, insects, feelings. <br><br>I for one hope for the best, well-knowing that hope is not to be trusted, it's mankind's greatest treasure - until it has to face the face of reality. <br>But the memory of them sunny times will shine forever.<br>