The end most often is the beginning. For sometimes there is enough strength in the dying embers, to flare up again.
There is comfort in the darkness, when the hourglass is empty.
The ornament is broken.
There is fear in the darkness, when the ride is incomplete.
Picking up the pieces is an exercise in futility.
There are no distractions in the darkness, when the road is bittersweet.
What is broken will always be broken.
Darkness is absolute in the absence of light, but sunshine may be around the corner.
Just ride on to greet that sunshine.
The end is another beginning. For even though there is enough strength in the embers to flare up again. The fire that will rage will be different from before.
There is comfort in the darkness, when the hourglass is empty.
The ornament is broken.
There is fear in the darkness, when the ride is incomplete.
Picking up the pieces is an exercise in futility.
There are no distractions in the darkness, when the road is bittersweet.
What is broken will always be broken.
Darkness is absolute in the absence of light, but sunshine may be around the corner.
Just ride on to greet that sunshine.
The end is another beginning. For even though there is enough strength in the embers to flare up again. The fire that will rage will be different from before.
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