lotus, i
Every lotus blooms after its time in the mud. How long can the dark times be before you Blossom into color? If all you see is brown, How do you know what else is there? To know the height and depth of blues, The richness of purples and mauves, The statements and emotions that Follow reds. In its child-like state, the lotus Knows what its shown. As does she. The little girl that sits in the grass, Staring at the tree that is her Friend. She does not know much, But she knows some. She knows what they tell her to see, Or not to see. The lotus is planted at the bottom of the lake Its roots deep underneath the dark, wet soil. It knows the darkness, where its roots will then Grow. She too, knows the darkness. She though, does not grow within it. The tree friend stares back at her, silent. Its leaves are chattering to her in spurts, Telling her where to put her rocks and moss. The décor of the crevices that she hides her Sorrow