When the storms of misery strike the soul, they destroy and build at the same time.
When the storms of misery strike the soul, they eradicate and sow simultaneously,
since they could eradicate the weeds of weakness and meekness,
and they could also eradicate the weeds of the faintheartedness of heart and the infirmity of its purpose,
and sow instead the seeds of bravery and heroism.
The seeds of courageousness that enable them to face danger or pain without showing fear.
Since the storms of adversity are able to rub off the pillars of rust on their rusty hearts,
the rusty hearts that have grown up in the arms of the false ostentatious luxury.
The rusty hearts that have grown up in the bosom of the inability to resist the immediate gratification of whims and desires,
which clothes the souls with the robes of weakness and powerlessness.
The feeble soul that trembles with fear like the leaves of an aspen in a windy winter night,
when faced with the storms of affliction and misery.
The soul that flies in terror if it receives the slightest stroke of ill fortune.
Because they choose to escape the inevitable confrontation with their misfortune,
and enjoy a sweet elopement with their beloved lifelong defeatism,
and they willingly give up their free will to the wind of hardships to take them wherever it wants.
Nevertheless, the storms of tribulation are still able to scrape the layers of rust off their rusty hearts,
and give them a new lustrous vivid color.
A glowing lustrous metal that is becoming of a crown of a victorious conqueror.
The conqueror who is able to redeem his newly discovered heroism.