Growth

At first,
She is nothing but a tiny seed,
With only the dark, damp soil for comfort,
She is embounded,
Her existence is minimal,
Encrusted in the ground,
She neither hears nor see's.

Slowly her feet find their path,
Breaking out of the soul shell,
Legs entwine,
Gasping for air,
Light is creeping through,
She reaches out towards it,
But it seems to back away.

Rising and Stretching,
Falling and Sinking,
She tries yet again,
With all force she breaks through,
The light explodes on her face,
Blinding her,
Her lungs fill with air,
A lound cry deafens her,
She feels defeated,
But something inside tells her,
She has won.

Thorns break out of her,
Protecting her hidden soul,
From the enemy that surrounds her.

In a sudden,
A cold wet, substance surrounds her,
It makes its way through her lifelike body,

She soaks it up,
Energy errups from her,
Bursting with happiness,
Buds of joy bleed out of her delicate form,
Then morph into beautiful blooms,
She is complete,
A tiny fragile Rose.