The Flower


The Flower

The quest of the flower
Is to tower over the rest
Knowing that those
Who dwell below
Are part of the flow
Of that which we say is best

It is all one under the sun
And it is hard to say
When it all began
In the distant past
Or how long it will last
When we look to tomorrow
And hope for the end of sorrow

When a flower blooms
We step back to admire
The presence of beauty
We marvel over the bounty
Of nature's miracles
And wonder why such things
Are the fruit of much pain
For this we often complain
But it is all in vain

The rain brings showers
That may seem never ending
But when the clouds part
We find fields full of flowers

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