They could breathe fire when things transpired.
Much more than drama…
They spit lava on top of the trauma.
Flames fly and blaze lies.
Smoke swells when flames die.
Slept in ashes. Rolled in dust.
Incinerated trust.
Faith obliterated from doubts reinterred. Any sudden motions triggered explosions.
But so afraid of being frozen…
Watched elders grown old in a love that grew cold.
Quivering hearts in ice covered mold.
So they Singed bridges and scorched buildings.
Dragons dragging damage down deadly ditches.
Burning blessings and mistaking stresses for life lessons.
Never weary of defeat
They fell in love with the heat
And burned in peace.
Reblogged this on adventuring between black and white.
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LOVE this photo!!
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Well written – strong aura about it
(oh, and thanks for following my blog)
all the best…
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Very nice! ☺️
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‘smoke swells when flames die” that…that did it for me. it got me.
wow!!!!
IM INLOVE WITH YOUR WORK
well done.
🙂
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On point!!!
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