Simple beauty.
Chapters of unending tales withering to the ground from which they came from in earnest.
Shielded!
Guarded!
“Step Aside I say!!”
For, doubt not, all things beautiful have known pain.
A prick.
The slow trickling of blood.
Appreciate the colour.
Understand the pain.
All things precious are products of the precedent pain.
Whether alone or in the presence of others, it will take your breath away.
Attention.
Admiration.
Adoration.
Grasp….
Emotion…
Flooding! Breaking the banks of my soul.
INFERNO!
Burning through my veins.
Tears…
Release…
Joy…even forgotten pain.
A moment in which all is right, all is well.
The quintescentially environmentally acceptable headrush.
The story once hidden in the bud has bloomed to one all can see.
A dozen times yet one glance.
The statement, “I AM HERE! I FEEL! I SEE! I AM NOT ASHAMED TO BE!”
Bright.
A thousand words, one stalk.
Graceful.
Terse.
Pithy yet bold.
Lady yet rogue.
Red rose.

© Ruman Kuria 2010