Unequalled in it’s simple voice
The flower sings of life itself
Allowing worldly troubles to
Pass by without a thought.
A passing whiff of jealousy
Instead a seasons majesty
It’s gift of nectar shared.
In company of reed and ant
& all of natures mixed allure
It’s place within a jigsawed state
Enough for all it seeks to be.
In colours rich beyond the banks
In forms informed by destiny
The flower sings of simple things
And holds it’s own authority.
Upon the breeze it’s seed is set
To wait in dormant winter mode
Consuming only what it needs
To be reborn in future tense.
Beyond pretence in honesty
The flower owns it’s fragile trust
And harbours not ambition nor
The need to fight an endless war.
In temperance in holy show
As one of many splendored ilk
In ignorance a life of thrift
A radiance of simple joy
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