Flower Chide VII, Pokenose

Caelith pulsed in the starless seam, No warmth, just orbit, cold with gleam. “Equality is just a myth,” it sighed, “And safety, merely a dreamleaf dried. A lull to cradle wilt and thrall, For leaves too tender yet to let fall.” Then Lily laughed, a sound half-sung, Like petals bruised but newly sprung. "If truth decays in myths you spin, We’ll plant our wound and bloom within. From mulch of lies and roots opposed, We will bloom not rose, but Pokenose". Caelith stirred, its voice a flame Of dust and law without a name. “Try your might, bloom what you will This is reality, cold and still. Hope is a pollen that drifts, then dies Order endures when dream defies.” "Let's all get back to our home Nefarys' where dreams aren't trimmed" said Iris Past spindlefern and veiled ravine They tread through fire tinted green. In the center where petal circles close They knelt where breath became the prose Tulip brushed a thorn aside, “Beauty’s truest when it won’t abide". "Let this be seen," said Peonies, grave, "A bloom unbent is twice as brave." They placed it firm in woven light. where scent alone confers the rite. No voice was raised, but all could tell Azure had steeped the air with spell. Pokenose shimmered, slow to bloom, A want once buried in Nefarys' womb. Not born of thirst, but love of pain It fed and fed on beauty's stain.