Things get Better

What does it mean when it is said “things get better”?
Does it mean forget the hurt? Or, perhaps, forgive the disappointment.
Time is said to heal all wounds; however, bitterness blooms with this same hollow lie.
No miracle or belief cures that what we’ve found to be true. Will faith deliver wisdom or trickery; hope, delight or disgust? The screams of my mind echo with blissful memories of a garden, filled with branches of self-sacrifice, fruits of fulfillment, and tree’s of temperance.

If the journey must continue, then how to live is the only question worth asking.
Will the air smell and taste sweet, or will each breath be the one hoped to be the last? Will sight see family and friends, or friendly foes of those that entice and delight in failure and futility?
Will faith surface on that sunrise of the next morning, or will fear cloud the spirit, leaving a coward to rot in the disguise of life?

These are the pondering thoughts that plague the existence of humanity.
Does acceptance of one of these options create a scenario of a future, brighter or gloomier? Or, is our choice, if we, in fact, have one, an illusion of our own supremacy that feeds our vanity for the purpose of telling ourselves,
“things get better.”


Copyright by Frank B. Johnson