Cactus

Very few can survive in a place where there is nothing. 

In nothing, I thrive. 

Empty space, dry cracked rock under my feet,

surrounded by sunlight and 

trapped by flat horizons. 

I bloom though I am thirsty. 

In nothing, I wait. 

Until the air gets cool, and the stone 

keeping me company starts to shiver. 

Under attack, I am a fortress. 

In nothing, I defend. 

My rough skin is unreachable

to bare hands. 

The same spines that protect me

kill any flower I grow. 

The few that survive know to surrender

to self sabotage.