The Blue Orchid's Lament

A tale of imposed beauty, unlearned illusions and remembering what is real.

I saw a man carrying a blue orchid,
He knows its not real,
Blue orchids dont exist naturally
A mask of dye injected to deceive.
Soon will be revealed as false.

But when he brings it home
 And she exclaims, eyes all aglow -
"Its a blue orchid!"
Does he dare to break the illusion
To disappoint with the truth?

Or is that when he begins to believe
The lie, the mask for the truth.
"This is a blue orchid" he thinks
And so the blue orchid is born.

I wonder - if the orchid thinks its blue?
Has it been forced to believe that to be fact,
That the mask of blue given
Is the only role its destined to play.

But from the roots grow buds anew,
Flowers not pre-conditioned,
Who have not yet been tampered, 
No narrative forced upon them.

In the eyes of he and she,
Once unmasked does it lose its value?
Will they continue to believe the lie
To perpetrate that it can only be a blue orchid?
And see these buds as 'wrong'.
Or will they see the beauty in the truth,
Even accept the truth?

Pure, white, authentic
Just like it was born to be.