I was once a beautiful trail surrounded by all sorts of natural beauties in a grand oak grove.  My favorites beauties were the children who came to play.  Their merriment healed my old worn out soul.The children would enjoy my long winding turns and would often come to run and play in the fall leaves that would cover me. I would rumble with with laughter as the children laughed and played. At the end of each day the echos of laughter would be remembered in the grove. Those were the moments I loved; the moments I treasured. Those moments are captured forever in my old weary soul.

It was a stormy night when that all changed.  The thunderstorms rolled in; singing there loud bass melodies.  Each booming note rang throughout the earth and made me quake. Streaks of bright light illuminated the sky. It was an orchestra playing to  the thunders loud bass melody.  As the thunder got louder the orchestra got closer. One blinding streak lit up the sky signaling the end. It was the most beautiful and devastating thing I had ever seen.

Suddenly an orange curtain of heat rose up as the thunderstorms melody fled. As the orange curtain of heat rose high in the sky I closed my eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

When I woke from my deep sleep, I looked up, thinking I was going to see the branches of the great oak trees bowing under the weight  of their leaves. Instead of the arms of the tree bowing low I saw the charred remains of their trunks left by the orange curtain of heat from the night before. Everything was charred black as night.  There was sadness and gloom in the air for their was no life left in the grove except for my old soul. Every tree and plant in the grove was destroyed by the orange curtain that closed on that fateful symphony. I looked up to the heavens and wept for the loss of the grove; asking the creator to bring the life back. I continued to weep and the heavens opened up and wept with me.

The children came in the fall to find nothing there but me, a sad barren trail still mourning the life that was lost in the grove. The children left with tears running down their faces; mourning with me the loss of the beauty they had loved so much.

Time passed and soon the pure white snow came and covered the scars that were left. Each flake brought with it the healing power of the creator. 

Spring came; the time for blossoms and new beginnings.  Suddenly a small life sprang from the ground bringing new hope with it.  I looked upon that small oak tree and wept tears of joy. The creator had given me hope.  The creator had seen my despair and gave me a light to guide my soul back to the joy it once felt.