Pale, delicate petals, so battered and bruised
Glimpsed briefly, only to be trampled and broken
Persisting, clinging, tenatious weed of the wastelands
Relentlessly uprooted, hacked, burned and poisoned
and still its roots persist, dig deeper, and endure
In quiet corners, those pale shoots will reappear
and though it may but seldom blossom
The scent will drive you wild, and haunt you forever
Ye believers, wherever there is fertile soil, plant it
Nurture it in secret groves, spread its seed afar
and Beware, ye Tyrants, of freedom's fragile flower
For its thorns are sharp, and will one day bind you all
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