You can never return to the same place twice. Never, under any either the place has changed, or we see it through different eyes. When disaster strikes, both sides become locked in an eternal dance of disconnection. Our eyes search for small signs within the wreckage that remind us, even faintly, of all the beauty that once flourished there.
Every fire squeezes memory until it runs dry. Every absolute ending forces us to build a new beginning armed with the wisdom of experience. And perhaps the fire reveals something we never no matter how much love and care we pour into our sanctuary, no sanctuary will ever be safe from the storm. And perhaps, in that truth, the fire finds its purpose.