#300 Every pain transforms

Every pain transforms
Sometimes, as a silent seed, it grows

Or as a flower rising from the murky depths
With a beauty not witnessed or met

Or even as a leap of faith that doesn’t know
How it came to be or where to go

It grows older with every bruise
Taking shape in many folds that muse

A spirit of melancholy and grief
That often flares like a burning leaf

With edges decaying in crimson ash
Turning life to death in a flash

To be born again anew
A healed bruise layered in the winds

A transformed scar healed
By the searing pain sealed

Every pain transforms
In a seed, flower, or leap, it forms.

Until the next ❤️ beat ~.~.~

P.S. Not all approaches need to follow optimization; survival sometimes shares something different. Read more.