Out of the Ashes
Charred ashes lay in a pile
Where once were burning embers.
Dreams are discarded in the soot,
Buried amidst hurt and shame.
What is left after the fire is gone
and nothing else remains?
Only me, lost and alone,
A little worse for wear,
Tattered and torn,
But still intact.
I pick myself up again,
Brush away the soot and grime.
Out of the ashes comes life;
And I have been resurrected.
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