All of it was not an illumination,
Which hid behind rows of
Raising blades of fire;
Uncaging the little birdie, free.
All of it was so beautiful like the moon,
But still it hid behind a forlorn group.
Happy tears fell and the Daisies
Reminding, of her everlasting beauty
Which once masked behind scars,
Now a gleaming smile, resulting for
the sun to shine.