Flare and Ice

Strong ties resurrect

Photo by Daniel Ferrandiz Mont on Unsplash

A string pulls, and God holds me tight

When,
I was a pile of blood ice white
Blizzard with the rock, cold sober
Restrain from the light of closer
You forced it’s warm, sheen until moist
Bust the stream out.

Then,
I poured all in the hold of gathered palms
You sipped, then spill on the ground.
She grows the green around.
Now turn to rebel surround.

At the corner of the door
Staring reflection of my own
As I made myself frowned.

But,
The flares have return
It turns bleak into a lawn
Silhouettes began to form,
mysteriously pleasing pain.

As it is known,
when ice turns to rain.
Assure one day it will bloom,
with peonies and fireflies.

Abyss of a wound,
Left behind with ravishing glee.