P

the mystery of nature.

in it's most beautiful being
yet underlies the most
as beautiful as the sun is
yet it scorches
as the roses bloom
thorns underlie
and in love
the most beautiful of all
a thin blade
then all turns into scorching
pain and sorrow
yet seems incomplete
just like of my soul
then I knew myself
but no longer do I
all that I thought I knew
deemed futile and vanished with the wind
no longer am I sure of a thing
not even of a soul I own
©peakynate