Caelith pulsed in the starless seam,
No warmth, just orbit, cold with gleam.
“Equality is just a myth,” it sighed,
“And safety, merely a dreamleaf dried.
A lull to cradle wilt and thrall,
For leaves too tender yet to let fall.”

Then Lily laughed, a sound half-sung,
Like petals bruised but newly sprung.
"If truth decays in myths you spin,
We’ll plant our wound and bloom within.
From mulch of lies and roots opposed,
We will bloom not rose, but Pokenose".

Caelith stirred, its voice a flame
Of dust and law without a name.
“Try your might, bloom what you will
This is reality, cold and still.
Hope is a pollen that drifts, then dies
Order endures when dream defies.”

"Let's all get back to our home Nefarys'
where dreams aren't trimmed" said Iris
Past spindlefern and veiled ravine
They tread through fire tinted green.

In the center where petal circles close
They knelt where breath became the prose
Tulip brushed a thorn aside,
“Beauty’s truest when it won’t abide".
"Let this be seen," said Peonies, grave,
"A bloom unbent is twice as brave."
They placed it firm in woven light.
where scent alone confers the rite.

No voice was raised, but all could tell
Azure had steeped the air with spell.

Pokenose shimmered, slow to bloom,
A want once buried in Nefarys' womb.
Not born of thirst, but love of pain
It fed and fed on beauty's stain.

He looked at Rose not past, but through
And said, “What waits will change you too.”
She plucked out a petal and handed him.
It pulsed between the stem and rim.

Rose turned back with nothing said,
Her footsteps soft, like vows long shed.

Hence the petal breached and then it reached
A world where love lay bruised and breached.

A petalbreach chime unsettled Nefarys with woe
For gossip is in the veins of things that grow.

"She breached the bloom with no regret,
Unraveled law which our roots had set."
cried Tulip with an unflinching vowtorn ache.
Tearing right through her bloomroot's wake.

"If roots still matter and vows still bind,
Then Rose must face what she left in rind.”
Daffodil declared with her petals taut.
As Nefarys wilted in quite distraught.

They said, “If one may breach, then so shall we,
“Not with withering secrets, but unity.”
They all plucked themselves without a cry,
And sang a vow that split the sky.
"You left us rind, and now shall see
What stirs from shattered symmetry.”
And thus, was shown with blinding clarity—
The bloom-born wrath of majority.

They all circled Lotus, voices steeped in fret,
Which no bloom or blade had spoken yet.
“She’s not of the ring,” they said without sway,
“And what grows apart should not be asked to stay.”

Lotus did not smirk, nor cast a scroll,
He let their fears complete the role.
Then offered nothing but a phrase like tar:
"Your unity will take you all far.”

They all returned back to shaded plots
Grief coiled in them like tangled knots.
Their scent no longer stirred the mood,
Something sacred splintered in the wood.
Distance crept between the roots they shared,
And made them foes, their grace impaired.

Azure remained mute nor did he lift what fell,
even though he knew that wound too well.

Rose found Muir near the Scentfold's bend
Where winds keep secrets, they cannot lend.
Muir breeze retreated soft and slow
And tugged her thoughts in undertow.

“You long to leave, do you know the price?”
Asked Muir, his voice like cold-cut ice.
“I just want a glance,” Rose whispered low,
"The kind that names can't bear to know."

“Only one petal may pass the wind,
The rest stays bound to what you’ve been.”
Muir howled a long, unraveling cry,
as if the wind itself mourned the why.