Seek amongst the days,
like flowers through the thorns.
Never let the recompense
become the impetus for desire.
Know that even one spark
smites the bramble
and the rose.
The sweet smell
ends with sickened absence.
Adorn yourself with flowers.
The cuts on your hands
only make your face
more beautiful.
As it is
with all things from the land,
you too,
come to reflect it.
Eyes bright
and dark as earth,
shining in the fertile loam
and moss that carpets
the living, breathing
forest floor.
You know
that the fire is inevitable.
You might even
strike the spark yourself
when the time comes,
but you are still
rich with green leaves
and colors of all kinds.
Birds and small creatures
still seek you out
for your safety and nurture.
Beneath the canopy
of your countenance,
it is still evident
that vines and thistle
have their place,
but it is in balance.
Only there,
lest some greedy,
or unwary hand
stray too far from order.
In you,
of you,
by you;
do all things come.
To live,
and die,
and know true life.
HG – 2022
