Flower in The Fire
The earth is ashen all around,
no bird dares to even make a sound
Fire has ravaged my once lush ground.
All those who have enjoyed the sight,
question why none the blaze did fight.
Flames ate only what was dead from blight.
Memories of my youth; a black field,
despised and dead, no fruit did it yield.
At the center, a single flower faith did shield.
Barefoot I run towards its beautiful life,
agony erupts as embers burn; more strife.
Collapsing in tears as I hear my wife.
Across the field screaming and burned she lay,
the blaze separates us,"The Flower" her lips say.
"Save us from this pain," to the flower I pray.
The flames die down when the flower I seek;
if my gaze from the flower strays; I grow weak.
Truth revealed to me, the flower alone I must seek
The flower before my eyes is growing; rebuilding.
The longer I look, the more beautiful it's calling.
On my knees I crawl, it keeps me from failing.
Life from this ashen ground does grow,
I work day and night pulling the furrow.
In the pain, the flower has seeds I must sow.
Fire from the evil one my field has destroyed,
This pain will fade yet now of smiles I'm devoid.
Oh, Day of harvest come and I'll be overjoyed.