It's like...

...planting flowers in a dustbowl.

Do they flourish? Transform the dustbowl? Are they overwhelmed by the cosmic dustyness, itself a thinly veiled reference for the lack of life giving sustinance? Will they bring color, bright greens, yellows, oranges even (!) to the grey pale dustiness, the grey dusty blueness of the sky, itself devoid of life, a mirror, reflecting the aforementioned dusty bowl? Will the flower push up and crack the cement like dusty bowl's floor, sending cracks in every direction, shattering the land and the sky?

Well?