Opening my eyes
Looking ahead –
A hazy gray mist
Hides what comes next
Looking back on to see
A path already traveled
Full of scorched soot
With occasional bright points
A blue lily when deep love was found
A few thorny roses showing love lost
More flowers as happiness prevailed
And there is a plant...two in fact…
Slowing growing, blooming
Moving towards the light
Turning, yearning into something
Tall sturdy and strong
Turning back to the mist
Can I handle moving ahead?
Can I forge a path of inspiration?
Will it be looked back upon as scorched?
Can I do this?
Is there any hope left?