" a rose"

Surveying this burnt out landscape,
scorched barren,
hostile veneer,
should a seed of beauty bloom here.

It would be a malignant blemish,
a scar,
marring the surface
of this horrid unseemly plain.

Beauty as such,
would beatify my soul,
embracing me with joy
in glorious contempt
for this place.

Thru my mind's eye
emerges an image,
so pleasing it must be
supremely contrived.

Around me a rainbow
bright iridescent hues,
thru a soft morning mist,
i smell a sweet
flowery perfume.
Alerting my long deaden senses,
my heart's pounding...
quickening with suspense.

I thrust my hand out,
it's pricked by a thorn.
Blood's tracing my finger,
astonished,
the image is begining
to be born.

At my feet
a green carpet of grass's,
stretching farther than my eye can see
and standing in the middle of the mist is
a rose...
blooming into a sea of beauty.