The Phoenix Flower -------------------------------------------
Was it the dawn...
The color of that pink bloom; orange burst of life that inspired such an imploring face.
Tragic in a way-
Beauty confronting beauty; each falling victim to a similar fate.
With in her grasp was the flower who shared a such a similar tale-
To grow; be in a field of memories- Flowers like her- you see.
Roots that weave; Roots that bound
Petals that wilt; Petals that sprout
Happy to be in eternity with others- No equal will ever be.
In the winter...
A swift and covetous grasp- How unknowingly blind to the shadows that loom behind-
It would come and take all that the frost didn't claim-
So stoic she remained; her roots clung tightly to hands pushing away-
A better life growing on a window terrace- A royal estate.
To see; feel separated from what made you be forever fun and free.
Discarded as something flawed; Discarded as something wrong.
Cut from that rounds that weave; Cut from the roots that bound.
Tossed aside until another eye caught true beauty trying to flee.
The final spring...
Disconnected from what inspired once beautiful dreams- Her roots long for her so-
Resting with in the palm of the second beauty one does see-
That life and love can be- despite utter disparity.
A flower is a meaningless gift of vanity-
By now one can begin to see that everything is connected coincidentally-
A flower given to a flower-
Taken by the roots and displaced in order to gain admiration by the other flowers you see...
Cut down when roots would drink from the poisoned well-
Tossed aside and taken by a hand of a shadowy hustler and given to the goddess herself-
The flower has died-
Nothing but the cracked pink petals remain as dust returns her home once again.
Ashes sink and rain comes- The next dawn it is obvious enough to see that despite a life of tragedy that beautiful flower rises once again to bloom that vivid pink.