Forging the Pain

Forged from the pain, in the fires of Hell,
Comes my soul,
To break free,
As something new.
Forged in fire,
To find beauty in the world.
To find peace and goodness,
To give kindness and empathy,
For when the world seems cold.

I choose to stand.

From all the fire,
I have come to see.
To be.

My own soul and mind,
Broken and ripped apart,
Only to be forged back into place,
Stronger,
Scarred, but stronger for all that pain.

But this is where the story can all too often stop.
At those scars,
But with goodness to find,
A reason, aim.

To look and feel,
Grasp at beauty,
To cling to kindness and goodness,
My sword and shield.

As I choose,
To walk and bare those flames.
I choose.
Willingly,
To plunge my hand,
Consumed by flame.

To make,
To feel,
To be.

To try to be.


Writing this, thinking about me, my past, my present, future and photography. A way for me, to forge the pain, into something beautiful, peaceful, an encapsulation of me, and an extension of me.

Forging pain with photography into something nicer.

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