The Desert Rose.

I am that seedling,

Carelessly planted by a man,

Who had not a brain to think

Further than what he sowed

In a land that was barren,

Hard dirt, and solid rock,

Blistering under the sun

From dawn to dusk.

I am withering,

Under the endless heat,

Flourishing in the cold of the night,

Sprouting the skin,

Of someone under pressure,

Fighting the weather,

Every sun up,

Til sun down,

Pushing through,

I will reach the sky.

I am growing,

At a rate beyond slow,

Blooming with beauty,

Unknown to this land,

Glowing bright, liquid,

In the aridness,

Thorn covered,

For protection,

Against a wildness

Of a heart downtrodden,

I will rage, soar, far higher,

Than the seedling that had begun,

From a man who carelessly sowed,

What he will, where he willed,

Leaving his seedling behind.

I will conquer,

This parched waterless wasteland,

Bringing the rain, unseen,

Become the queen

Of roses, thorny and protected,

By the shear will power,

Of a seed long forgotten,

Blossoming with beauty,

This land shall flower,

Under the eyes,

Of the Desert Rose.


…twists your mind.  You wield your elements thinking spirit must succumb to the powerful mighty four.  But spirit blasts away your wind, cuts through your rock, ceases your fire, vaporises your water.  It rears its ugly head.

And you brace, in part ready to die.  But you live, because your will is stronger than its.

Quote #14

“Whatever you are, be a good one” – Abraham Lincoln


She held a camera in her hand, but her eyes drifted to the sky.  Such natural wonder in all shapes and sizes, from every point in the day, it was a photographer’s dream.  She sighed.  How could she capture this beauty?  Clouds, so carefree.  It’s abstractness too immense to capture, but still she would try.


Just fly.

All I want to do is be free.  I want the bonds of self to be released.  They suffocate me the same way my family suffocates me.  I can see it so clearly, the path from here to there.

I let my wings unfurl, spreading into the empty space.

“That’s right, he said, just fly.”

The Voice.

The voice enchanted my soul from the dark depths of fear, of hell itself.  Sweet like the honey comb of the spring bees and torn with heartfelt sorrow, the voice came to me.  I was never the damsel in distress, but I would succmb to the voice that did nothing but call life to me.