Cold charcoal on the ground
Ready to burn and become
A new matter, turning around
With heat and succumb.
The ashes seem quiet but still
With bright red burn inside
The wind blows and feels
The warmth that subside.
The transformation occurs,
The need to change, evolve,
Even when is hard and hurts,
It takes courage, even love.
Ashes spread by the wind
Take new forms and shapes
After the fire that grinds,
New life finds its way.
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