3 weeks ago
The engine went dark, buried beneath a winter of the most bleak substance known to man. Blackened and scorched and ruined and broken. Left for dead. And yet somehow, a spark refused to succumb. It smoldered. A tendril. An idea. A concept more powerful than defeat. It held on, and grew, with agonizing slowness, fueled by the soft breath of hope. Embers turned to flame. And the fire it spawned embraced every atom of oxygen around it, devoured it, gorged on it until the conflagration it bred could consume anything. And it sought a path upon the world not of destruction and revenge, but of redemption and possibility and forgiveness. And whatever it touched then burned with an unspeakable power that illuminated a dazzling path forward. Not rejection of its foundation but a firm foothold on it. Standing on it. Building on it. Rising above it. Forward. Onward. Unstoppable. There’s an outstretched hand waiting to pull you forward with its momentum. Don’t fear it. Grasp it and hold on tight. It’s never too late.