The Flower

They travel from around the world to see

(Or rather, to not)

Quite the magician

Her disappearing act is really

somewhat lovely…

In so far as she is invisible.

(Oh, the wonders of nothing.)

Inspire, inspire, inspire

Her only true aspiration—

To will the little flowers to bloom.

She secretly loves the spring.

(Despite the magic of winter snow.)

There’s just something about those flowers…

What courage! To come up from out of the ground!

She, however, much too fragile to inspire—

Ever-dependent upon red droplets,

Shed for one little seed.

A mustard seed?

(No, not so great as that.)

Did you know that even orchid seeds are small as dust?

Talk about invisible…

But still, for one as small as she,

Blood could be shed.

Should be.

Must be.

“Oh little flower, how I love thee.

Won’t you please to see how much.”

A crown of love(ly) thorns.

Adorned with rubies.

And so it seems,

Red droplets

Shed from an olive tree,

Just might inspire


Her small dust-like faith…

From out of the ground.

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