Mount Pinatubo

A sleeping giant, once a furnace of fury, now a crater's eye, reflecting the sky's soft blue. Ash-laden winds, a memory etched in the landscape, a ghost of fire, a silent testament, to the earth's raw, untamed power. Lake waters emerald and deep, a tranquil surface, hiding the scars below, a fragile peace, born from violent rebirth. Lahar's ghostly trails, carved into the valleys, ribbons of stone, a reminder of the flow, the unstoppable force. New life sprouts, tenacious, green shoots, pushing through the ash, a symbol of resilience, a quiet persistent hope. The mountain breathes, a slow steady rhythm, a reminder that even slumber holds the potential for awakening, a quiet power held in check. Pinatubo, a wound that transformed, a scar that blossomed, a landscape of contrasts, a silent watchful guardian, of memory and rebirth. ©bfa040325