This place, where the earth is charred, I have claimed this space. The flames have purified the earth, restored that which the plant kingdom leeched of the air and from beneath the surface with tendril and leaf. But the fire is my way of staring over, resetting the balance. Yes, there was pain, for the flames are but birthing pangs, the sorrowful notes of the end of one song, the last notes that give way to the new song. Sing, with full throat, for a new song has come into the world, a world of my making.