The day grew long, but still,
I was constrained by the hours.
My heart danced, leaped, raced,
Until it lost its way in the dusk and
Sank beneath the stars.
The seasons embraced, but I was left in solitude
For Time was my only companion, and even she,
My fickle friend, was keen to depart.
As winter forced the heat to disperse,
I followed her scent to the meadow where,
Shepherd-less, I roamed,
Searching for the rarest rose.
Through the bramble I clawed,
And the thorns marked my heart red.
I could no longer see the rose I sought,
Plucked by the winds of passion –
The meadow now lay bare and desolate.
Everywhere I turned, I met an empty stare
As a tempest of loneliness set in,
So I closed my eyes and dared not open.
Inward I turned my gaze but
As the scars healed they led me to myself
And in myself I found strength.
Strength to search, to climb, to strive.
And as I traversed the peaks and valleys,
I came upon the arctic, where
With a staff of patience and resolve,
I made my way over the frost-bitten stones,
Feeling every sign beneath my soles
Incline me to bend to the snow-white gem
That lay hidden within my reach.
So gently in my palm I cradled the seed
That survived thirty-thousand years
Waiting for my heart to burgeon.
At last in the warmth of my hands
You flowered, soft and white
And in that moment I would forsake
All ease to shelter you from any plight.
A narrow-leafed campion,
Delicate and pure,
You took thousands of years to bloom
And now I know why.