Day 144

This is the story of two brothers, born two years apart.
The elder brother was born mere steps from a mighty blaze. The most destructive this land had ever seen. Hordes of ravenous flame ignited the mountainside, consuming all that was green and good in it's wake.
As it drew closer to this child's own home, the gentle babe let out his tiny cry. Small though he was, his voice made manifest a trumpet's call and summoned all the people far and wide to beat the hellfire back. To turn the fiery tide.
An unsteady peace was met.
Until unforgiving frost claimed the scorched land. A winter that seemed a punishment for crimes too ancient to recall and too terrible for which to repent. The frost had found its way to the very hearts of every neighbor, some still tired from the fire fight only years before. This piercing cold threatened an eternal sleep on the inflicted citizens of the new formed tundra.
But like his brother before him, a child was born in time of need. And this child's voice, too, was a thing of miracles. The tender cries of this gentle babe, would melt the numbing ice inside the people's chests. As if warm arms embraced each of them from the inside out. With hearts warmed and will renewed, they all would learn to weather these sub-zero trials. They would find their strength not only to endure, but to one day thrive.
This is only the start of their story, but these children, their's is not unique.
People underestimate the power of a new born. The shrill cries can shake us to our planet's core.
We must let them. That they may shake us to our cores also.
And in so doing, make us remember the cry within us.
The power that it may still possess.
That we do still possess.
For we are all children.
And all children can be saviors.