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carry on.

until you understand that life was not meant to be easy. or perpetually beautiful. or without pain or risk or loss.  you will not know what miraculous things you are made of. you will not know to what extent your strength can push you through and what it feels like to build a bonfire inside your very own lungs that roars and billows and fights to the bitter end. you will not recognize the sound that tragedy makes when it begins to sing hallelujah into the vocal chords you believed to this day, were fast asleep.  and you will never understand how capable you are to sit in silence and listen to the voice that says,”carry on, child, your work is not yet done here.”