"Raging Waters"

The rain dissipates
into vapor
as the flames
sears at its touch,
consuming the flowers.
Petal by petal,
they burned away.
Leaving behind ashes,
     memories,
for me to bury
within the dirt.

This was the desecrated
ground:
nothing holy,
     nothing light.
Just imperfection
so close to perfection,
that it turned into
nothing more,
     nothing less,
than cinder.

Charring my skin
as I reached out for
what was left.
But nothing remained.
I was simply
scarred
by the memories
of the flowers
flared in life,
and disintegrated
by death.

The waters could
not calm,
     never quell,
the anger of the
fire.
Sensations
rushed through my body,
electrifying me,
as I saw it all happen.

The garden,
     an epitome of beauty,
          grace,
          love,
          hope,
died in my eyes.
I stood by
watching,
unable to stop it
as it happened.
Watched
as I was left behind
by the beauty,
     grace,
     love,
and hope.


--; April 10th, 2013

I wrote this for my Twin.
He wrote a poem about flowers burning and requested that I wrote something in response--which I did. This was the result of it: a poem about despair and lost hope.
We portray flowers to be beautiful and glistening. To bring up the concept of flowers that burn, we are, more or less, attempting to destroy all that the flowers represent.
That's what I took it as, anyway.