The Amaranth

Above what would be beyond,

And yet beneath it still?

Does the amaranth feel will

Of action not yet ascending,

But waiting. Yearning. Until.

Until all has sunk?

Once risen, does that action,

The action that separates by way of plane,

Reach a plane where beyond again feels

Beneath? And still, still an action may not feel.

Solitude in a choice. To peers it appears to kneel.

The Amaranth hath reached, if it can.

The Amaranth soared past fellow man.

And up there, what happens when

There is nothing? The Amaranth

Soared to escape beyond,

Or to at least carry its bearer,

But found itself only where it once was

Cycle or not, there cannot be zenith

Proud or unfeeling, the Amaranth scareth.

Fear drove it above. Above it waits. Alone again.

In solitude.