Poems for those uninspired or in need of some angst or comfort

Little beauty

Bending in waves of silver, leaving nothing but a mark,
The lilies form around it, hoping it won't starve,
The roots form deeper, making marks in the ground,
Hoping the wind won't force, the beauty out the ground,
It holds on tighter, hoping it won't drown,
But nothing lasts forever, the world bound to change,
So as the world sits, on that gleaming axis,
The beauty sits there waiting, just a little longer,
Even as waves raise higher, crushing it underground,
It stands in the light, hoping it will bright,
Even as time passes on, it continues to wait,
But nothing ever changes, no matter how long,
The wind still crushes, forming deeper scars,
Until no more beauty, is there to give up,
And even as the little one, learns to stand its ground,
It can't stand forever, bound to fall at one point or another,
So what choice does it have, to do anything but stand,
As the ground pushes harder, deeper to the earth,
As the elements form around it, hoping it will burst,
The ground raises higher, as the air level lowers,
Until no more air, is there to give up,
And the little beauty left to ponder, as the world drifts apart,
Can no longer see the light, left to wonder in the dark,
No ones there to help, as the little flower drowns,
In the vines its created, forming all around,
Will anyone find the little one, feeding its ground,
Or will they cut its surface, leaving nothing but ash in the ground,
The moon glows above, raising the ground,
As the sun wonders forward, bringing air to the lungs,
Eventually another comes, helping the ground,
But even as one heals, pain is bound to surface,
No matter who comes, it always resurfaces,
Blending in the ground, leaving nothing but a vast port of sound,
As the waves crash further, leaving nothing but lost seashells,
The greens of the earth wonder forward, hoping for adventure,
But what they will find, will become unexpected,
That little beauty, which has grown even taller,
Sits there waving, waiting for a storm,
To pick up the weight, pulling underground,
And as the greens look further, taking a closer look,
Soon they will realize, the beauty of the earth,
As it crushes down, on lost flowers,
Hoping for a voice to shine, even brighter,
What will become,  of that little flower,
As the ground pushes harder, deeper to the ground,
As the air bubbles flurry, higher up above,
Will it find a light, to bring it from the dark,
Or will it bury further, leaving nothing but ash in the earth.