Oh, what blossoms from dark earth have I found?
Tis but a flower, growing in the sun.
Refracting light casts rainbows on the ground
and I ask what contains more beauty? None.
        
A stem of glass, as fragile as a heart,
from which its petals of pale crystal grow.
Seem they to smile, when tears of joy do start
within my eyes. True bliss, at last, I know.
        
Yet when, with longing, I extend my hand
the shadows loom and terror grips my soul.
Though peaceful my intent, no malice planned,
I know my touch must surely take its toll.
        
So here I stand, gazing down at the earth,
aware myself judged of little worth.