I.
Spring breaks the solitude of winter
Splinters of ice dripping drops which dare not stop
in the sparkling sun
a light that stands in between sips of chill
a light that stands in between sips of chill
and the hum of new life,
air that tastes like a numb nothing,
yet the bare landscape starts to awaken
yet the bare landscape starts to awaken
and a flower emerges having shaken off the cold,
it is old in that it is a child with a history
yet startling new in that it has emerged,
wrapped in mystery
wrapped in mystery
(it came from silence, but now proclaims
it was indiscriminate, but now has a name)
arise, good shinning beautiful thing
arise and sing of a future lying prostrate on the horizon,
II.
You, flower, are a revelation,
that which was hidden has been made manifest,
this hour was ordained for your glory
yet words don’t seem adequate to tell the story,
you are a drama determined in silence
hidden from the violence of storm and darkness
but now your conversation is a kind of stillness
you speak of things beyond speech you give to each
a foretaste of invisible palaces
adorned with joys more permanent
than the beauty stored in your company
To witness your beauty
Is a pure gift, giving me quiet in the heart
Mending the rift that has disturbed my thoughts
Plagued with fears
of what I ought to do vs. what I have the strength to bear,
You are fair and all lovely in bloom
I want to take you home, into the chambers of my room
But if I were to consume your gift
Soon you would fade,
so I must leave you to go back to my trade
so I must leave you to go back to my trade
Of hand and mind, work and the whole toil of my daily bread
I long to rest with you instead,
Give me but a word, that having heard you speak
I may return satisfied.
III.
The flower speaks, but says nothing
The intoxication of silence is overwhelming
A sweet wine is this conversation,
The flower is a dear friend,
An image, captivating, deep without end
But yet this moment will pass
These everythings don’t last
But rather speak of something which is eternal
And does not change
The flower foreshadows the supernal
Arranged in the designs of creation
And this flower is not alone, but is like a nation
Of spring opening to the sun
Having begun the dance
Like a trance, my heart too is opening
I sit before this vast parade
And wade in a silence deeper than thought
Caring nought for image or thing
Lofty, like being carried on the wing of bird
I have heard the melodies of flowers
And in this hour I have responded.
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