The massacred poppies of last month have risen from their whacking to bloom in full. The most perfect pink tissue paper petals with a dark chocolate middle now grace my yard, a reminder that the circle of life is adaptable and STRONG. The death of the first spring's growth allowed minor growth, that normally would have been too shaded, to hit full sun and bloom a month later.
I think I have fallen upon a beautiful death metaphor here. Death is a passage that leads to new life, new experiences, a rebirth of unfathomable proportions. Death is not the end.
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