In the harsh sands and blistering heat,
There stood a flower.
This flower was not normal flower,
For its petals were twilight, gleaming from a dark dew shower,
It stood there in those sands, different from the area around it.
It thought it was ugly, a weed in a garden.
It stood there with its black petals, living in a place where it did not fit.
It wanted to die, to fade away,
It just wanted to join the sands around it,
To blow with the wind, to turn to dust, never to sway again,
The flower with its black petals stood there in the desert sands,
Slowly drooping down,
Its petals dipped, wanting to succumb to sand’s hand
It wanted to be buried by the desert sand.
It never wanted to see that blistering sun again.
It never wanted to hear the desert wind curse it.
It wanted to hide away from the hate.
It didn’t feel special, it felt dumb and weak.
Ugly and useless.
A lone traveler marched across the sand and saw a flower.
He saw the most beautiful flower he had ever seen.
He had never seen something so beautiful, and he fell beside that flower.
He enjoyed its gleaming petals in that desert light,
He loved how it stood, different in the desert sand,
He loved how it swayed in the desert wind,
The traveler marveled at its twilight pedals that gleamed from a dark dew shower.
He loved it, for it was special.
That flower stood there in the desert sands,
Realizing it was beautiful,
It was ugly in the desert’s eyes, but to someone else, it was a treasure.