The thick curtains of despair and dark,
Parted to the cry of a wishful lark.
The tiny sapling of delight, tender and new,
Basked blessedly, in hope's golden hue.

The droplets of red sap, that trickled down,
From the deep rent caused by a milieu unknown,
Had threatened to taint the inner temple.
Yet were washed away, by a blissful sprinkle.

The alluring verge of hope, kept beckoning from a distance.
Precarious steps were taken with hesitance.
Mind, that feared a plummet into depths that drown.
Found itself engulfed by a sanguine bourn.

Was published as a separate book earlier, which is still in my profile.

Inspiration: I can't remember.😉