The Bloom and the Gilded Lie

The blossom dwelled in wordless dark,

With a mind perhaps too simple and slow;

The blossom dwelled in wordless dark,

With no seeds of thought left to sow.

The flower had fallen from the light,

And found a love she felt was not her own;

Her heart began to pulse with fright,

In a garden where she felt unknown.

She found a sister in that crystal hall,

And loved her with a spirit pure and deep;

But her sister was a shadow, after all,

An imposter with a secret she must keep.

May her weary soul stay ever blessed,

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For words could never hold her inner light;

May she find the heart where she can rest,

Where mate and soulmate merge within her sight.

The blossom knew no human art,

With a mind perhaps too simple and slow;

The blossom knew no human art,

Content with only what a root could know.

Yet the imposter’s hand was kind and fair,

She knew the truths the Between had hidden well;

She loved the flower with a sister's care,

Seeing a wisdom that no tongue could tell.

And then a voice rose through the gray,

The one who knew her long before the rest;

Who saw she was no "foolish thing" of clay,

But the brightest bloom the world had ever blessed.