I

Your words are the fire Whose ashes spread sickness To the rejector whose Plot seems to thin as it thickens. From the coiling stem of a timid flower Daring not show its petals For they've yielded their power. A blossoming hope in the new from the all that shy little flower gets too grand and too tall. Alas, the plague is still spreading From the east to the west, As the winds of the ocean Borrow in mountain's breast. Power! Vast power, radiates from it's petals, But it now stands alone in this place of foul weather. Soot has encompassed all the land to be seen, And Diseased all the flowers and most of the trees. This rebel, this blooming beauty Is outcast again, for doing it's duty.