Flowers. Petal lips forming litanical colors inside, more fields of daisies, open the windows, let in the light, the water, the moments eternal expression. They vase our feelings. Give blooming bright and beautiful face for our growth. We stop our step to sit and smell, wonder and awe in this simple elegance of God’s manifest. The flower for me is all of me, without and within.
I set down vernacular for in only a flower do i escape the haunt of intellect, the freeing of my frailty, my feeble illusoires. In a drive through the Arizonan desert, highway sunflowers adorn my stay to the beauty of this life. How they fight in love for the light, their justice is in their reach, love is in the attainment of the beautiful flowers. I forego my death in the wilted rose petals, swirling from my loose bound leaf journal pages, up in spiritual flights of autumn winds. Injustice is what inhibits love; justice is the return to love at all cost. Sowing with no assurance but trust, the voices of wind speak life to the seeded air. Soil the ground with grand becomings, call us into growth, the growth of love and our innate beauty at all costs. The payoff for this is an endless reaching into the light, the soaking in of water, the cooly smile among all the others.
I ask a flower’s permission before i pick her, rest assured the purpose of this petal brilliance is in being seen for the momentary manifest expression of God’s eternal beauty.