illusion of chaos | poetry

w a l k t h r o u g h h e l l

She walked through hell,
on the path of roses.
The naive world couldn't apprehend
the cruel intentions behind it,
failed to realize where it led,
instead got lured by the outer beauty and hence,
drowned in the sea of mirage,
from where returning was thought
to be impossible.

But she was unusual, she saw thorns and envisaged their ability
to wound profoundly
and understood the vicious intentions behind the illusion.
For she was an empath,
who had the power to feel everything,
whether realistic or phantom
that existed in the universe
and perhaps even beyond it .
Those mortals never truly understood her, for she wasn't a mere mortal,
she was holy.

As she walked on those painful prickles, that had bled thousands
and more,
she felt their pain,
prickles I mean,
for they were forced to injure others
for their gain.

Soon the roses which were supposed to turn black and vanish,
were painted in her blood,
the blood that had the power to heal
everyone and everything.
The further she went,
more flowers bloomed with no regret,
happiness and joy spread everywhere.
She chased the demons,
soaked the darkness and
drove away the sadness of all the creatures.

The mortals lived with hope,
but they made the mistake again,
they never thanked her,
meaning they never learned
to be happy for small things and
to feel gratitude.
For if they kept doing so,
the cycle might repeat,
her ability as a healer might weaken
& she would become the saddest soul
while soaking the negativity.

Then again, who said you need
to be happy for spreading happiness?
You just need a soul like hers,
one of a kind, and
to have hope and just be kind.

~ p.