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.

Spirit…

…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

Clouds.

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.

Trust.

Hope, it seems is all I have for my companion.  We are at the end of my rope.

He takes my hands and I look at him.

“I know you don’t, but trust me.”

Behind me my littlest sister watched me.  To keep her alive, We would have to travel with him.

“Is that all?”

Superhero.

You aren’t a superhero if you don’t help the people out there.  I catch the falling kid in my arms.  I was no more than a kid myself.  I considered myself a superhero, but was I?

The kid looked up at my sixteen year old face.  He smiled widely.

Yes, that’s what makes a superhero.

In Honour.

The sword wavered in her hand.  She wavered.  He would see that she lose everything.  He was all blood and lust.  Honour was at stake.  There was no honour and pride in him.  If she fought, she could lose everything.  She was a girl.  She stepped back, her sword down.   Honour, Pride, they were hers.

Across the Stairwell. Angelo Saga Part Three.

Across the stairwell, Sweet Marie watched Angelo.  He grinned wildly to those who walked up and shouted boisterously to those who walked down.  Still on a high since he last spoke to her, she wanted to say hi.

“Go on,” her friend said.  Hesitant but determined she turned to him.

“Hey,” he said grinning widely.

Rooftop.

Cats climb rooftops.  Dogs stay on the ground.  Possums cross them and rats like to hide in them.  But humans could do anything on rooftops.  He contemplated the three metres of empty space between the rooftop and the ground.  He was the cat on the roof.  Grabbing the piping, he slinked down like a cat.

Just Beautiful.

She groaned with a final pleasing groan hauling herself over the ledge.  For a moment she lay there panting, exhausted before she stood, if a bit shakily, to look at the only view, the summit of a mountain could give her.   It was beautiful, and she’d come up here all on her own.  “Just Beautiful.”