Just, A Poem

Lilacs are growing rampant over the the folding hills
Dandelions threatening but seem to never grow as tall as needed
With hope in their direction, they color the minds of the relentless
With nothing more than a want and energy, it is done as soon as it flies

Cover me in color with objects that appear to be beautiful
A voice is all that one must need in the treachours of ones hell
Where does the hope come from when demons train their thoughts on a soul
Only a grueling meeting of wrong and right is enough to cover those hills once again

With time and space in the midst of change, we fall into the folds
Our sights will not be broken from the colored hope that we now feel
Lying motionless in the chasm, we smile as we become overgrown
Hope has sprung and lilacs have filled our senses with the fragrants of love