On Fallow Fields

On fallow fields of infertile furrows
slumber the seeds of pure invention.
They hibernate in stagnant state
not disclosing their capacities
unto a simple gaze,
but blooming as fiery roses
as intense as any noon.

Awaken to spring’s vernal beauty,
when transparent and shallow hearts
are flush by their touch in claret inspirations,
they become alive and radiant in their light
shining upon what was dull
and lacking of any hint
about the power possessed by those petals.

Rising from the soil
most thought was dormant
are the most amazing flowers
when exposed to the day,
nurtured and watered
by hands who have learned
how arid facades hide their jewels
with facets unappreciated.

Wanderers who pause to cultivate
the earth of fruitless face
find the bounty gleamed
bears a rainbow of insight’s produce,
fragrant in a fury’s transformation
of what blesses as a whirlwind
forever changing the landscaping.