Blood, sweat, tears and rain dripped. Dripped down into the spiraling world of chaos. Chaos that spread over the lands of grief and destruction. His eyes were squinted. Vision blocked. His heart concealed. He forced his body into meaningless forcibiliy. Without knowledge. Without understanding. He faught for his life hoping it would change.

War is a norm. A norm across the world and across generations. Whether it's visible or invisible. Whether we know it or not. Humanity is always at war. It's embedded in our souls, our heritage and our minds.

As the man fought for his life, a ray of sunlight shot through the twirling clouds. It reflected through the droplets, through this mist and gas and through the misunderstanding of war. A rainbow was projected and of course the rainbow ends. The end where the pot of gold is found.

The man glanced up, with blood dripping over his eyelids, into the spirit of the changing sky. He stopped all activity and shut off his senses. His eyes followed the crystals of light. His head dropped down to the end of the rainbow where hope stood. Where his little son stood at the end of the rainbow - the man's pot of gold.

Blood, sweat and tears didn't matter anymore. War meant nothing. Love meant everything.
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