The Fire and the Bloom

The fire came without warning,
burning what I thought defined me,
reducing old dreams
to soft, sacred ash.

At first, I feared the flame —
but as I stood in surrender,
I saw new life blooming
from scorched soil:
flowers of compassion,
roots of unshakable peace,
leaves shimmering
with trust in the unseen.

Now I know
the fire was never my enemy,
but the gardener of the soul —
turning loss into fertile ground,
and every ending
into a secret beginning.

— Joe Restman