The flower’s nectar flows through its veins
Sickly sweet and green
With its petals without flaw, whitest white
Giving off immense power
Eternal life to the doves who taste it
Yet to all other creatures its blood is poison
The crows flock down for rest
Yet as their wings fall upon the flower they cry
A shriek reins out across the valley
The battle song of death
Natural selection they call it
Yet the sound is muted by the dove’s wings flapping
Their purity unquestioned, drinking the blood of corrupt immortality
Cooing to the bells ringing for them
Ringing only for them