Heartbroken and all tore up and in stitches all over again. And again and again and again all over.
When that old growth burns something germinates and rises from the ashes.
And life blossoms and blooms and begins all over again.
Flourishing and thriving so very vibrant and alive.
Beautiful and hopeful and free.
And again and again and again all over.
Born of ruin an desolation and flame and pain.
Aint that a thing?
Don’t the whole affair just leave you in stitches too?
By The Whippoorwills