Blossom

“Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer's lease hath all too short a date.”

-Shakespeare

Have the trees always blossomed that way? Like a butterfly coming out of its cocoon.

Shakespeare couldn't have said it better himself.

She is beautiful.

She will always have that fiery passion within,

Striving even as the last of her light is flickering.

But for now, I know she is at her peak.

She too knows of this,

For She is seeking another flame amongst the vast sea of grey ash.

Although, She has yet to learn,

That one must seek the ash, to find a flame.

I know, therefore I am.

Have the flames of a fire always flickered that way? Like the wings on a humming bird.

She is gentle.

She is the bud that is first to bloom in the spring.

Soft, bright, and full of life on the trees that were once covered in snow.

She blossoms into a beautiful flower among the barren tress that were ghosts within this world.

She changes the barren trees around her,

Filling them up with life and beauty.

No longer are the trees ghost, but life itself.

She too knows this,

For she too wants to experience what the trees do.

What she doesn’t know is that,

What she yearns to experience, is what’s within the flame.

I know, therefore I am.