Behold the blossom upon the stem, battered by winds and parched by thirst.

Behold the roots sunk into the crumbling cliff side of this desert place.

Behold the fat leaves storing their load of water to survive the time between the rains.

The flower defies.

Know the brutal forces that have acted upon it, working to tear it away as they do all life.

Know the struggle it faces to cling on to that cliff face and to survive between the rains.

Know the doom of that plant with no insects to bear its pollen and no place for seeds to grow.

The flower defies.

See the fleeting instant of life, of colour, in the vast and barren land.

See the determination of it, holding out for the next rainfall that never comes.

See the fat leaves shrink and the roots' grip weakening, as death inevitable draws near.

The flower defies.

Look to a different scene now, friend, turn your eye away.

The flower defies.

As it grows between the slabs of the street, drawing strength from dying dirt.

As it leaches nourishment from water poisoned by the city stench, full of the products of civilisation.

As it endures the battering of passing feet and wheels, bruising its stem and leaves.

The flower defies.

A spot of bright colour surrounded by the blacks and greys and browns of town or city.

A sweet odour overwhelmed by smoke and stink, fumes and foulness.

A thing of nature and patience abiding in a hurried and unnatural place.

The flower defies.

Growing from a wind blown, rain washed seed (one of many) that found this crack and survived there.

Growing on these meagre nutrients and enduring the poisons fed to it, lasting to bloom.

Growing alone and surviving alone, unnoticed by most and damned to as lonely a death as it had a life.

The flower defies.

Look to a different scene now, friend, turn your eye away.

The flower defies.

Gaze upon the field of flowers, many of many types, now look to that one out of them all.

Gaze upon that one flower, warring for space among many rivals, fighting for light and for water.

Gaze upon that flower as it grows amongst its fellows and knows no individuality.

The flower defies.

Understand the pain of being one among many and yet alone in fighting to live.

Understand the fear of meaninglessness and insignificance, a nothing in a field of nothings.

Understand the helplessness of being rooted there and unable to change, damned by circumstance.

The flower defies.

Notice the futile striving to be brightest, to be sought by the pollinators most, to stand tallest.

Notice the desperate drive for the sun and rain, the wind and space; recall the first flower.

Notice the child plucking a bouquet, drawing nearer as they cut short lives and destroy potential.

The flower defies.