After all the violence, even darkness fades.
Night will eventually turn to day.
Out of every sacrificial fire, comes new Earth,
new moon, new life.
Where one has fallen, another will rise.
Only torment and pain marked the silent grave
of the pieces of girl who walked and talked.
Those who mourn her,
mourn in silence, without ceremony,
beyond reason and hope.
But the world turns gently by
And what was barren and cold
now proclaims the fire of life,
the desire to live despite.
Her branches reach ever higher,
perhaps searching for Heaven,
perhaps declaring her adamant existence.
For her fire can not be extinguished,
by something so meaningless as death.
© Copyright 2016 Violet Vane. All rights reserved.