Trials come. But the spark never dies. Quietly it's nurtured, and strength is gained through times of weakness. Freedom is born anew from what were believed to be ashes. And the bird flies, wings unfurling and catching the air beneath it as it vaults to the skies.
But this is not the Phoenix, but the soul of man, which has been reborn.
Pain. Sorrow. Anguish. Never forgotten, but put in their proper place as joy in Freedom takes root yet again. The axe cannot destroy what the God of Heaven ordains.
Keep finding common ground. Keep fighting by not fighting. Keep following God, for he is the author of the peace that never will die.
Nurture the spark. Fan it to a flame. And keep it burning brightly.
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