“If your heart is a volcano,
how shall you expect flowers to bloom?” – Khalil Gibran
I sit and look at the paper. My hand shaking. The news no one wants. Pathology says, there is nothing more to do. My world shatters despite my positive intention to resist the bubbling enemy within.
Momentarily I am stunned into acceptance. Resolutions form as I question resolve and attitude.
I cannot fight the awaiting eruption but I can shield others from the looming pain.
Flowers will only grow if I not only plant them but also nurture them.
To nurture is to love, to love is be with those who desire nothing else than your presence.
The paper heralds a change but a change the fire never counted on.
My own resolve strengthens; my resilience gathers a momentum nothing will shatter.
fate stares up at me
destiny comes face to face
not yet, not yet, no.