Sometimes fountains stand in all their majesty before hundreds, all because of that one little cluster of ugly looking pipes pumping water out of that tiny hole. Water gushes out of its confines, ecstatic at its newfound freedom, free to create marvelous patterns and shapes.
Yet, we are often too oblivious to the fact that without the initial trappings of the pipes, the water would never have come with such force, such ferocity. All the patterns would have been reduced to a useless trickle.
As cliche'd as it seems, it does remind me tough times don't last, tough men do.
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