One early evening around eightish. Hell has broken the front door, kicked and damaged yet a whirl; a smile hangs on her heart.
She had done the work.
She finds herself and with that there is a soft nudge she embraces.
Throw it out for faith can be a wonderful leap.
Ready for success, sighs in slight relief.
Each breath releasing the moments of their duty.
Plans change. She grows. Everything alive grows.
Did you hear that she asks?
If you are not alive with passion how can you even consider yourself to be living?
Ponders a moment, Wow simple. Truthful. Helpful.
She embraces what may or may not be, turn a new stone. Stop. Don't speak.
Laughter is a joyful noise. She has become a butterfly.
Caterpillar no more.
Speak highly of and to that girl when at the beginning it was started, harvest your wheat and thy own self be true. She found it; inside. Her dreams came true.
