Take pity on me, oh Noble Soul
your golden staff shines bright
contrasting with the coldness of your eyes.
Hopeful daisies spring up in hard soil
weeks ahead of time.
Hope crushes them
they will not survive.
And with his steely eyes he glares down at me
stripping my of my protections.
Notebooks. Clothes. Skin.
My body dissolved
white light, dimmer than his golden staff.
Dimmer than the daisies.
Hope looks at what I have asked and laughs
a cruel sharp laugh, breaking the air
following me as I scramble away
unable to squeeze tears out of eyes that do not exist
I smooth down my skirt
and walk stiffly away.
Passing a patch of hopeless daisies
resentment fills my mind
but instead of leaving them to cruel gods
I gather water
sprinkle it on the dry soil.
Greedily they soak it up
becoming lush and soft
they begin to glow from the inside.
I realize what I have done.
Hopeless becomes Hopeful
and I am only one.
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