Desolate.
At a glance you see nothing
But dirt and weeds.

That's all you would ever see
If you were only
To glance.

For not all
Is as it seems, or at least
That's how the saying goes.

Upon a closer look
The weeds may still be there
But you may notice something else.

The dark beauty
Of a single bush
One who most associate with death.

It's aroma draw things close
While it's prickly thorns
Keep unwanted visitors away.

It's beauty is odd
Yet intriguing to some
And only those see what's really there.

They see past the thorns
Breathing in the essence
And smiling.

Knowing that if they see
Past the thorns
They might just see a light.

A light hidden amoung
The dark beaty
Of it's exterior.

~082299~