She was the sun, rain and blossom all at once, and so it was, that when she bloomed with abundance even the shadows of her shape were safe.
The solemnity in her roots did not diminish her beauty but instead caused it to roar most magnificently.
The wind blew her petals and her shame was held in her undecorated frame.
What she did not see was the air,
carrying her seeds to lands that needed the wildness of her love to grow undisturbed in their gardens of weeds.
She had noticed it all, the horror and the terror, the lovely and the light. She stood undaunted, fiercely alive.
Finally she did not fear. She was cut from the ground but not forgotten. Instead she was folded into the four where she would fully flourish.
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