Slender silken petals hemmed tight,
glittering golden sun, drips red, despite.
A mystery within slumbers in silence,
secret tastes, secret smells venture loose with violence.
Dainty and delicate, the petals slow curl,
slice by slice, revealing a gift, a pearl.
Life trembles on glistening crimson plumes,
and the air hangs heavy with enchanting fumes.
So too, within each person there grows,
a gift, a flower, and that the spirit does sow.
So watch and wait and listen and see,
for in that glimpse the true person runs free.
Whether it's yellow, whether it's white,
whether it's wilted, dying or bright,
by their own hand it's watered and fed,
and in the heart is where it makes its bed.
If you wonder what you have to give,
it's only the life that you have chosen to live.
For weak are lands and jobs and gold,
and strong the flower that your soul does hold!
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