concealment & revelation

the flowers do not know


to reason or too-thoroughly 

examine the nature of things.

they only taste the whisper

of sweet light against their most

delicate skin and simply

revel in the exquisite 

flavor of opening up.

they throw their heads

back so that the sun's rays

may sweep across their necks.

this is pleasure - pure & unimpeded - that

the flowers don't even know as pleasure. 

for it is all they know,

this sweet & natural offering

of life.

they don't define it or doubt their deserving of it.

rather, they drink every

last drop of it,

knowing all the way down 

to the roots of their existence

that it is the very thing

that reveals their divine

beauty, their gift to the world.

Even despite the fact

that a future, bitter

winter will take their


this cycle of growth

is all that matters now.

the flowers don't know

the die off is coming.

what an admirable trait.


isn't always a bad thing.

what we don't know

can propel us to



about who we can be

what we can pass on.