Growing in the Dark

I know
a little flower
who's taken years
to bloom,
she's ready now
to unfold
her creased petals;
weighed down
by darkness,
she still found
the space
to grow,
without light
and love.

Bloom

you smell
my sweet fragrance
today,
doors of thin skin
open to the wind,
turned inside out

I have no need
for capes
now,
only wings
to carry
a sweetness

born from
deep stirrings
in the ancient dust,
a quiet rush
of love
for life,
and a sun dance
upon
the altar
where
earth meets sky -

things
that remain
unseen
to forms
that seek
not the roots,
but only
the fragrance.

A Flower in a Vase

You don't speak
like
a wild flower
opening
her heart
to a clean blue sky,
you speak but
like
a flower in a vase -
cut off
from roots
that know
only how to
grope and grow
in the sunburnt soil.
There is no
rush of sap
from those
dark crevices
to colour
your pretty face;
only a pale copy
of what could be,
a little water
to keep you fresh
until you see
another day.
You are but
a flower in a vase.

If you see a wildflower...

if you see a wildflower
by a hidden mountain trail,
would you stop by to listen
to her thousand tales?
would you stand by
to just gaze, and
drink in her simplicity,
or would you hold
a secret wish to be her -
wild, free, yet ordinary?
would you care
to pick her up, and give her
to someone you love?
would you be inspired to press her
between the warm pages
of a book you love?
if you see a wildflower
upon a mountain top -
know that she has dreams too,
to love, and to be loved.

Wildflower

I don't want to be
a flashy sunflower
in a field of gold, 
a flowing orchid
or a sunset rose,
I want to be
a quiet wildflower
by a mountain trail,
who waits for eternity
for a heart with grace.

A Flowering

A tightly closed bud
getting ready
to bloom -
to burst open
to her own fragrance,
but not too soon.

In the pain
and struggle
of a birth
and a death,
she is born.
A flower.

Quietly,
unannounced,
hidden from
prying eyes,
she arrives
with her
joyous
presence.

Joy

Joy
bursts
into nothingness -
a cactus flower
sits on a
pincushion,
blooming
inside out,
held by
thorns
piercing
a barren sky
that looks to
a parched earth.

The Many Faces of Love

What we see and experience as different emotions or states of being- like fear, anger, guilt, sadness, hurt, joy, peace etc. are like the different petals of a flower....each beautiful, unique and an integral part of the whole flower....each petal is connected to the other at the centre, and that is what makes the flower complete....and yet each is a unique expression of love....

Love is not separate from these feelings...it is there - flowing, hidden, quiet, with all of these......and when we see each emotion or state like that, then what is inside, as the flower unfolds in this lifetime, is the source - Pure Love.

So when there is a conflict, love is still flowing. But the flow is different...like two sets of ripples moving out in two different directions ....the flow is different where they meet/merge...and yet there is flow.

Love is connection. When we feel love, we feel connected. When we seek love, we seek connection. Sometimes we seek it outside, and sometimes we seek it within. But the intent is the same - to feel connected with our own true self, our essence. When we feel connected in this way, we feel valued for who we are.

Anger, guilt, sadness etc. are all a deep yearning to express our true essence, which is love. It is a yearning to seek connection (without and within), as we do not know a better way of doing that. They are all states of disconnection, when love is not flowing in its pure, natural, free-flowing state. All are expressions that seek to change the status quo. When each has been expressed fully, they make room for love to return to its free-flowing state. All the other states/emotions can always be replaced and reversed by love, which is the source.

Do you have the time to watch a flower?

Do you have the time
to watch a flower?
to sit with her pain and joy?
to watch, to listen,
as each petal unfolds
her secret story
into eternity?

Do you have the time
to wait, for all that it takes?
to hear her out,
until the only dewdrop
she holds in her bosom,
rolls down to water
her thirsty roots?

Do you have the time
to feel her unspoken love?
to rest your eyes, your heart,
on her quiet breath,
that whispers your name
to the fickle wind, and
the pain of an unrequited love?

Do you have the time
to watch her wilt?
silken petals, all shriveled;
a different story
of a life well-lived, and
unsaid words consecrated -
all in the name of love?