We are fragments of a lucid dream.
Your plump sienna overlays overlapping my chestnut velour,
Every wave of elation, the folds of my ruderalis heart buds crystallize.
Moist pigmented pollen and resin,
Mend into shades of destruction and revolution.
Relish in the victory before my substance hardens,
My stems have withstand harsh winters.
My leaves dance in the gale of March,
Vast roots stretching from the Western to the Eastern Hemisphere.
When I rest under the opaline skies,
I remember the likes have weathered abominable conditions.
That’s the reality I’m willing to triumph,
Returning back to the fragments of our lucidity.
