THE SPRING OF PAIN

I see the buds of spring arrive, the tiny clusters become alive. A world unknown where they’ve never felt pain, into a world of only sun and rain. God’s hand pulls them up out of the dirt, to a place where they can never feel hurt. They grow up fast from the nurture of earth, as they spread their petals to expose their worth. The sun shines down upon their grace as they soak up all the warmth and rays. Not a care in the world no feeling of shame, their only need is the sunshine and rain.  A display of beauty for all to embrace on a manicured lawn or in a vase. Their life cut short but they know not, of the reason they’re plucked or the reason their bought. Some are arranged and put on display for the beautiful bride or a fresh dug grave. Their lives are short they soon will fade, even the prettiest God hath made. But never in their lives will they have to feel pain; they only look forward to sunshine and rain. As the seasons change they take their place, as petals fall down from their face like tears that land to earths dirt floor, their purpose and existence becomes no more. The cycle repeats and they’ll be replaced with another spring bud and a brand new face. Never having to feel the sting of pain, only waiting for the beauty of sunshine and rain.