Tales of a Young Poet

Blooming Flame

Small and meek, hiding in the cold shadows. Waiting...waiting for when the time is right.

Finds the strength, finds the will. Breaks out of the cold shadows. Grows out of the earth, out of what held me trapped for so long. Up and up I grow towards the sunlight wich lights my way. Up and up growing more and more. Leaves spread out like arms to touch the world around me. Roots dig deeper and deeper, making me stronger and stronger. A bud starts growing, growing bigger and bigger.

Finally I open. Petals of bright and deep orange fan out. Sunlight bounces off of them, turning them into petals of flame. Dark spots sprinkle here and there, tiny embers that glow with an inner heat. Yellow tongues shoot out of a flaming chasm, waving in the air, tasting the flavor of the wind.

Bees fly to my petals.Seeds grow in me and drop to the ground. Slowly the flame loses its brilliance. The petals droop, their fire going out. Arms of leaves wither and fall off. The flower dies, brown and broken, its fire forever gone.

Deep in the ground the fire's seed waits. Small and meek, hiding in the cold shadows. Waiting...waiting for when the time is right.

Finds the strength, finds the will. It shoots out of the ground higher and higher, growing stronger and stronger. A bud appears at the top growing bigger and bigger. Finally it opens under the full moon, silver light shining off petals of darkest night.