Field of Flowers
To All Victims
There is a field of flowers:
An unsurpassed beauty,
For all the senses.
No two are alike,
So individually they contribute,
To the greater experience.
The tall shield the short,
And the strong protect the weak.
Each contributes to the strength.
On occasion, one falls to the outside.
On occasion, the strength fails.
On occasion, there are gaps in the field.
The fallen are dearly missed,
But the tears of the mourners,
Can raise the fallen to new life.
The risen are stronger than ever.
For they have been tested,
And through adversity they prevailed.
For every riser, there are less fallen.
For every riser, there are less mourners.
For every riser, the field is more beautiful.
The pointed peaks glisten softly as the raven swoops in
Something stirs in a dark cave, barely visible
Roaring to life, the canyons echo its call
The solitary hunter enters the trail
Eyes scanning for a chase
An unaware prey
The beast moves silently
The prey is none the wiser
A pounce like a lightning flash
A roar matching a nearby thunder clap
The beast remains unsatisfied in the young night