My screams are petals, leaves and buds,
Their blooms, I howl down from the stars,
In solitary flights they fade,
From treetops shed their seasons’ end.
I cannot say I do not fear
What lies beneath, what is so near.
I cannot hide, nor pass unseen,
Before these people I have been.
These eyes have held a mirrored sky,
Ensouled the air and stared through depths
Which others see and doubt no more:
These pains which come with beauty’s name.
Although I have no choice but this,
My screams are blossoms of my bliss.