At the end of the rainbow

A couple of days ago I was driving home from work, and I saw the most beautiful rainbow! It spanned across a fairly long distance, and I could actually see the end of it.

Watching the rainbow, I started to reminisce about my childhood and hearing stories and fairy-tales about the multi-colored phenomenon. I’ve always loved to watch rainbows, and I was spellbound by all mythical legends surrounding it. Remember the one with the supposed pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?

I remember reading some Donald Duck comic where they were were led by Scrooge McDuck, naturally, in the vain hunt for finding this pot and become even richer.

Looking at it from a more philosophical point of view, I think that rainbows somehow reflects life. They show up anywhere and anywhere, and they’re all filled witch spectacular colors! They appear in many different forms and shapes, but they’re all blindingly beautiful. When we most need it, they come into our existence, and before we’re ready and without a chance to brace ourselves, they disappear again as if they never were here.

And if they are indeed a mirror of life itself, I hope that the pot of gold is a simile for some sort of an afterlife (no matter whether we have any religious beliefs or not), that after our time on Earth we will reach some glorious state where we are all reunited with our loved ones.

Whoever created them, thank you for rainbows! They allow me to dream and drift away, and I believe all people need that sometimes.