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Dec 2017
I walk this field
All turned to ash
The fire will never yield
So I turn and I ask
“How did this forest
Once beautiful and strong
Become so dark?”
It just all seemed wrong
There was none to answer
My question was fate
It cried to wind
Still not answered to date
So I strolled on in the ash
Walking through the burning
All in worse state than trash
As I walked I began to weep
No longer able to stand
All the pain that I saw
I fell with my head in hand
And I wept and I cried
At seeing all this beauty
And imaging how it died
I couldn’t imagine
Anything good coming from this
So I cried and I wished
That it would just burn me up too
Then maybe I wouldn’t have to see
And I could just be
It would all be well
If I never had to tell
And I never had to see
All the ash
And blatant misery
But from my sobbing I paused
When I looked up
And to my surprise I saw
A young flower
A daisy
All yellow and golden
I was suddenly cold then
As chills ran down me
And I could no longer weep
I stood up
I began to leap
For in the ash
And through the flame
Had produced such beauty of fame
Something so amazing
And elegant
My mind now fervently spent
I saw that through it all
There was still good
And there was more than just the ash
I was talking to a friend about seeing the good in the world despite the pain and anyway that conversation inspired this so there.
Poetry of the unstable
Written by
Poetry of the unstable  20/F/Nashville
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