Blossom

I met a tiny blossom amidst the melting snow.

Through frosted stems and frozen soil his beauty he did show.

I asked him why he’d present to me, his lovely, perfect face,

In a world still dark and bitter cold, bereft of God’s sweet grace.

He ruffled up his petals, and in a voice both strong and meek,

The tiny blossom turned to me and he began to speak.

He told me of a better time, so very long ago,

When his world was filled with sunshine, before darkness brought the cold.

He recalled to me a promise made to protect him from the storm.

Yet, there he stood on frozen ground, so seemingly forlorn.

He told me then of faithful brothers and sisters he had known,

Whose frozen hearts fell from their stems, their roots torn from their homes.

He spoke then of resilience, and the will to rise again;

And how it was his duty to clear the path for his fellow man.

I wondered as he stood there, all vulnerable, yet so bold,

How his faith could shine so brightly, amid the bitter cold.

He said for to remind the world, that through the blackest night,

To not despair, but remember, after darkness comes the light.