Beauty in Ashes ©
Thoughts a blazing
Smoke Arising
from the dark painted scars
Tears a flowing
While Beauty forms
from the ashes that are left
No need to wash away
what cannot be seen.
The manifestation of the unknown
Reveals the scars she carry
As she tries to understand
Her birthing place.
How did she get here?
When clearly the ashes isn't soil.
They have no richness to them
to bring about life.
So, how did she form?
How did she come out of darkness into the marvelous light?
With no sense of direction
She walks with the stains of the ashes
trampled under her feet.
Causing her never to flee.
But since she sees no darkness,
She never becomes afraid.
For she knows she cannot grow without the residue of the garden lingering upon her.
She doesn't wash her feet.
She keeps the stain
As a reminder
that her Beauty came from a strange place.
But it brought out so much joy,
which soon silence the pain.
Even though the stain lingers on.
She finds her resting place
in knowing that beauty does form from ashes.
The cheap, unwanted expense of nothing left
When nothings left.
A constant, continual reminder
of what now is gone
And only what can be created
from the darkness that no longer hides.
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| not my image |
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