Like the first flowers of spring,
I watched life bloom before my eyes.
With each and every flower,
All the more beautiful than the last.
I strode around the fields in the early dew,
Gathering buds and blossoms in my arms,
I wanted each and every one.
In their rigid stems,
I saw stability, faith, and trust.
In their vibrance,
The colors of far away lands.
And in the blooms,
I saw a fragile beauty.
So I drew each of them, one by one.
But as my gaze lingered on a lone flower,
The others began to dull and soften,
And soon they all lay at my feet.
Their stems black,
And there I sat in the barren field,
Alone in the dust.