Metamorphisis

Flowers brighten a prison yard, where they bloom they cannot know. Their riotous beauty quite unmarred by the truths of where they grow. Tiny sparrows sit on the razor wire uncaring as to where they rest. They see only a handy perch on their way back to the nest. In a steel and stone enviornment, Mother Nature does her dance. Even a grey and gloomy prison yard, her miracles can enhance. Adapting, changing, evolving, ever striving to be more pushing fragile tendrils upward above the prison floor. Up out of the loathsome ashes, like a Phoenix of ancient tale words and spirit can achieve and mortal flesh prevail. Precious diamonds come from coal, a rather unattractive sight which pressure, heat and time transforms to jewels of wondrous light. And so hardship and adversity can transform a person's soul material much more precious than lowly, rough black coal.