Three Flowers Out of Four
Feels good, feels right, feels ripe for destruction,
The soil’s safe and fertile and all sorts of flowers may bloom,
And to bloom, the blind dream of any seed,
But some dreams should not come true,
Three flowers out of four will be full of luster and life, but the fourth will decay before it can mature,
Yet what’s true of one is true of all,
All flowers perish, a handful decay,
How fortunate to be a flower: naive to death, immune to fate,
Happy and doomed;
So one must wonder if the gardener is innocent or cruel,
I think he’s the latter, but my dig unearths a splintered root:
To whom is he more cruel: himself or the flowers in his garden?
After all, he knows what they could never know,
But does he have the right to deny the flowers their chance to bloom?
But should he doom them to bloom?
I don’t know,
But if I were a gardener, I’d try to have it both ways,
I’d plant seeds in my garden and water them until they drowned–
Before they could grow and then perish or decay,
And I’d tell the world I can appreciate beauty but lack the skill to nourish it,
Even though I’d know this wouldn’t be true.
About This Blog
This is a blog for challenging assumptions, building faith, and developing a stronger community. The two channels of this blog – Faith and Narrative – push us to know ourselves and the world around us more intimately. Want to learn more about us?