Before the bloom
There comes the room
Where silent roots
Outgrow their gloom
Where moonlit wounds
Begin to swoon
And broken birds
Rehearse their tune
The dark is not
A lasting doom
But fertile earth
A hidden womb
Beneath regret
Beneath the ruin
The heart keeps crafting
Something new in
Its secret chambers
Veiled from view
The stars break through
Then comes the boom
Not made of thunder
But made of bloom