From a Flower: You’s and Me’s

I will let go of the hurt… and the dawning of its core will convert into chlorophyll, flowing outward, to my appendages’ full length—my leaves and my buds, my hands and my feet will cram full of food for energy—the life gunning for the sun in the only way it knows: with haste for new and charged circumstance… The buds will flower in the nutrients—the sun and the water, and take on new shapes and color, the petals will curve into tunnels of nectar as insects bury their noses into the fluff, spreading the soul all around the green neighborhood, where I expect more of me will grow, but in separate ways… The leaves will carry the caterpillars and hold the ladybugs, they will drunkenly toddle over the inches of wetness, and eat to the limb my sugary extract, and to my pith I feel all the life sputtering out into rings of like vivacity, like a sun that sends from the earth its purpose and direction, ions wheeling and wheeling through ether and air—the spark that knows, and the kick that breathes lifetimes of new and existing animation… And I will not stop till I have reached the right light, the ongoing ocean of you’s and me’s that crash upon each other like a wash of white-caps, and a whirling of souls, not unlike the tossing and thrashing of a tree in a strangely ubiquitous storm … one which takes an eye to see… and gives an endless sea back to the eye.