The Flower

The beauty of a flower reflects me
The perfection of every petal
The awkwardness of its stem
Extended down in to the earth
Rooted in the dirt
Holding tight
While it sways in the wind
The complexity of its system
Made of water
Breathing out oxygen
Sharing vital air with me.

The flower holds my smile
And gives it back to me
Any time I gaze upon it
And at night it rests
Folding slightly in cool darkness
In reverence to its roots
To once again rise with the sun
Receiving divine light
Energy, goodness
Nourishing its cells

The flower is my muse
Yet it makes no effort
Beyond just to be
To cycle it’s energy
And to give its gifts naturally
So simple yet so complex
Easy inspiration
Easy beauty.

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