Kept in constant,
state of blooming
Even in the winter,
our hands, delicate petals, reach out.
The frozen sun’s rays
durst to break through,
hardened, stone like air,
fizzing and metabolized,
before they reached us.
Here we are,
holding out for warmth,
holding out for a familiar
hand to hold.
We’re seeing,
after blindness relinquished it’s hold,
throwing cascades and ringlets of daisies
our way.
The sun was always meant to shine,
even while we’re shrouded in blackness.
The tide turns
with the magnetic poles,
pulling us along with it.
We are not in control
We were never in control
We are kept in constant chaos,
brimming with the courage to change it.
Dawning Creations 
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