Poem to Prose

A bright, bloom exposed

A plume of fire let go.

A light cancels light.

---

I spy from far away, the rarest of flowers about to give bloom. Through my spyglass, I see it there, on the precipice of opening, on the precipice of the crater of a volcano slowly awakening from its hibernation. I watch it with both a coming dread and a fascination. Will I see the flower bloom to life?

Then it does.

It is the brightest shade of purple I have ever seen. Upon it's awakening, it seems to dull the very sun. It takes my breath as it breaks my heart. I take a photo knowing it will never truly capture its glory.

Then the jealous volcano erupts, spewing a fire high into the air, so enraged that the flower spilled her secrets to a mortal like me.

The lava consumed the flower quickly, the moment gone. The bright orange of the molten flame proving to be brighter than that rarest of purple.

The only thing I ever truly saw, that was brighter than the sun.