The Wind
it once was
a beautiful
vessel
carefully crafted
in glass
fired by breath
in ember
it would hold
a waterfall
where a white rose
still enclosed
would sip
there was no warning
when the storm hit
the wind so full of force
knocked the vase
to the floor
where it shattered
into stars
marking the night
the waterfall
crept away
in waves
leaving the stem
unformed
the rose had lost
the sun
and the moon
and all the stars
all at once
the storm had
dug into the dirt
and made a hole
and covered it
up
‘til there was no trace
no scent
nothing
so much of nothing
even the rose
herself
forgot …
so she slept
beneath the dirt
as the seasons
came and went
not knowing
that even in the dark
she was still alive
still forming
there was no warning
when the storm hit
the wind so full of force
dug into the dirt
down deep into the dark
and lifted the rose
up
and they danced
away
far away
from the forgotten place
where time had stopped
ticking
the wind laid the rose
in a garden
and wept over her
‘til she adjusted
to the light
the rose had changed
now fully formed
it had been growing
in layers
in the darkness of nothing
and that night
the earth moved
and time resumed its
ticking
the rose saw the stars
shattered in the night sky
so far away
from where she was
and it was like seeing them
for the first time
and the moon
appeared
with its full face
shining
like a ray on the rose
and after long reflection
she saw herself
again
remembering how roses
bloom
and in that moment
there in the garden
in the season of the sun
she knew no
death
TL