Volcanic Ashes and Rivers

Tis a new day that hence this moment has broken, a rushing of such beauty from the ashes before. T'was not my heart so long ago that was entombed in sawdust on the ground. Twisted, disfigured in no way mended, It was also my my mind, shattered lost and attacked by your cancerous ways, your virus had spread. How harsh the tangled web was you weaved that spun around my broken soul, this in itself holding my already pierced spirit together where before there had been such gaping holes, that into your darkness did I fall. Yet now on this new day, the morn has broken and the volcanic lava of the suns energising glow seeps into me like blood through my dissipated veins. Like a ghost being filled with a new soul, colour starts to return. Why this new day has arrived is far greater unexplained but just for the arrival of it I am eternally grateful. I no longer stand in doubt, not a tangled web in sight, not a lost soul but a trickle in the hillside as it bubbles forth and becomes and eventual river flow.