This originally was a private journal entry, but I want to know what your thoughts on the matter are, so here it is.
At first, I couldn't understand why during such a sorrowful time, I felt hope. I couldn't fathom how the streaks of indigo, red, yellow, violet, and green could crash into my soul and fill its brimming caverns with... hope. How does a colorful arch flowing from the heavy black clouds like a tropical waterfall could make the world seem right, even in the breadth of tragedy? Rainboes don't last forever. Then again, neither does the rain that makes them. After every rain there is a rainbow, majestic and proud, filling the sky with the light and joy it craved during the storm. So it is with hardship: there is always the rainbow to make it better. Most often, others are the rainbows. The support we give each other in times of needs is the rainbow that stands up to misfortune, giving us hope and faith.
Everything must come to an end, though. That is true for rain and the rainbow, for sorrow and its uplifting For weeks we have grieved as one tragic event after another has thrown itself on our battered spirits, like salt stuck in open wounds. But today when it stopped raining and the sky boasted a noble streak of color, a sense of hope came with it. Some how, though I didn't know how, I knew everything would be okay. Tonight I discovered how it would be, and why it is okay. Tonight I saw the efforst of people around the world to bring food, water, aid, and solice to those victims of the dark side of nature. Tonight I saw three hundred messages praising the life of a tragically lost friend, student, son, and person. Tonight I saw and felt the tears of grief, fear, and protection for kin in danger in a foreign land.
All of these are the rainbows to their rain; all are support for catastrophe, like yin is for yang.