I wander through a world
Of dying dreams and barren souls.
Above me I see the bare branches
Of the stripped hearts;
Below me, I hear the rustle
Of the decaying passions,
The last remnants of the beauty
That once existed here.
In the broken wasteland
The wind becomes a foe,
Piercing my heart with accusations
As the leaves swirl about my legs.
I feel trapped, lost in a land
Stripped of her beauty,
Chained in browns and grays.
Without the foliage around me,
Menacing bushes strike at me,
Their thorns of bitterness
Hiding their pain.
Burrs grab at me,
Desperately clinging to some semblance of hope
As they weigh me down.
Without beauty to catch my eyes
Ugliness is magnified,
And my broken heart wonders
If there really is any such thing
As a dream come true.
I stumbled along,
Thirsting for a glimmer of love.
My weary heart needed rest,
So I sat within a hollow filled with leaves.
With my head bowed,
My eyes wandered downward,
And I saw, to my surprise,
A flash of purple
Penetrating the sea of brown.
Amid the decaying leaves I found
A violet tucked away,
And I knew that it is not the forlorn remnant
Of what was lost
(For everything that once was beautiful
Was suppressed by the chains of brown)—
But it is the promise,
Painted in purple,
Of what is to come.
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