An unrelentless force of aflame

A lingering darkness

Fanned by the tears and strains of not knowing 

The lord taking my flowers

One by one

Right as they bloom

Withering without my having been given time

To appreciate all the ways in which they are beloved to me

All the ways in which they tried to say goodbye

All the ways in which they knew they were to lend themselves

Back to the seeds they had once come from

Back to the promises of possibilities 

That will forever remain broken

But every flower yields fruit

Whether the promise of its beauty

Or the next of its kind

And so I let go of the browning edges

The stem dusting in my hands

And all I keep are the promises that did

Come to fruition