I'm green and fire, risen after a wish. 
Music cleanses me. I grow from a seed.
He, who divided the wheat, from dead
to fresh cut me deep. I am the weed
you can't forget. I come again spring
after spring. I feel thirst as summer 
beats the sense out of me. I dare wish 
for the rain, but I am the forgotten. 
The Dame deems I am not a pleasure.
The gardener reads me as a treasure,
but there's no water to be scattered. 
I am at the fringe of desire, watered
is the only verb I can think of, thereof 
if it doesn't rain I'll die. I spark gold, 
this revolution will not be televised.
 
I search for an avenue to transcend 
the weakness of my name. A coward
can't hear ingrained pain. Toward  
strength, I go, the wind raises me!
Heat doesn't stop me from spreading  
myself, not as a replica, but as gradual 
waves of textual green. From this ground, 
I'll raise. I'll echo without greed.
I'll stem a system that dignifies fate. 
I'll grow in wisdom. Respect a weed,
even forsaken from a garden, hate won't
drought my voice. I'm the golden fire. 
I won't die in vain as love resurrects 
my nerves, those ignited by compassion,
either green or fire, the greenest gold. 
Signature Lina Ru