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The best laid plans come crashing down all around in a heap of smoldering rubble. Dry and dusty, it's a sun-baked quarry emitting a pall of steam wearying one to the last dregs as all the rose tints fade to grey scale…
And then there remains an uneven ground cracked, a few footsteps away–ridged, to stumble upon anew.
The jagged edges of one's own folly and expectations were mushrooming gravestones heralding an epilogue of sorts.
The splinters of the remnants of the high throne and the pedestal that once held lyrical dreams and castles in the sunshine--- now a mere standing ruin weathered by the freezing snap of winter and dog days of loaded high summer.
Hellfire and brimstones rain abound, as do the scorching heat of a rising lava around.
From the melting river of fire, from this barren and dead earth a flicker of spark arose from the strewn ashes to rebuild a defiance and gradually peaking to a steady confidence. The dying embers refused to be totally extinguished.
From the very depths of destruction an unyielding resolve was born casting a dense veil on the past heartbreaks and disappointments from which a flutter of shadow couldn't wriggle free.
It was sealed shut. Never to revisit even in fragments or miniscule of fractions.
The abyss opened up to a soothing grassland, casting new forest lights on the way out. A single tree was sighted in the distance its branches outspread, transforming dispirit into an oasis of respite.
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