Moving East - by M. Liewes

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Moving East - by M. Liewes 
 
Born with the notion that it was once meant to be, 
Later contemplating the feasibility of planting nothing, 
Other than a seed of illusion. 
Believing that if provided with sufficient sunlight and fluid; 
A deluge of care and warmth, 
It would develop a growth of its very own. 
A result that I'm now forced to accept; 
That my will-o'-the wisp was nothing other than a wildflower. 
Regardless of the gentle nurturing I'd volunteered; 
It was to never belong in my home. 
 
North, South, East or West, 
A conscription in which I'm forced to move; 
Straying from the wilderness that was so deeply known. 
Only to decipher the beauty of what lies ahead. 
 
The greatest of meadows, 
Pure of harm with nil supremacy; 
Swaying gently with the pasture's breeze 
Is a lonesome tulip within the ground, 
Solid and earnest, 
And defeating the clouds that once roared above.