At first, it was a delicate blossom swaddled in pastel words and showered in the rays of experiences just beginning. But there comes a time when the petals must splay and the truth of heartbreak, of passion and love, lick the leaves with tendrils of a flame only rising. The heat is impossible, the drought inescapable, and one must learn to live in fire if they are to bloom like a star.

There is a reality to pain, just as thorns prick fingers the eyes are too enticed by hue to see. The flames consume the petals to ash––the silken fibers that softly dress what lay within are scorched by red, imbued with love no longer.

The reality of it all is the very revival of the root; and untouched is the pistil encased in the last layer of the star. It has absorbed the light and made its own––an outlasting rarity  amongst withered blossoms. A celestial magnificence some eyes are foolish to look past.

The sun will rise and greet its dawn, but until so, it has set. And there is nothing greater than a dahlia that vies to be a star, and dares to grow in a place where light is untouchable. It is in this darkness that a story will unfold from the very petals that dare to blaze and not crumble when they’re set aflame. A defiant blossom. A radiant enigma. A purity that dares to rise not in the sun, but with it.

And so for now the sun has set, and it is time to let the flower bloom.

Welcome to the New Beginning.

-Kiran Bains Sahota