A Flower
\nGentle,
\nAnd loving;
\nThere is nothing more
\nThis flower can be.<\/p>\n
I sense the feeling;
\nIt senses my sense.
\nI sense its living;
\nImmense, and grand,
\nIts short life span
\nWithin its seasonal cycle.<\/p>\n
I touch the flower.
\nIt touched me.
\nDeeper than touch:
\nIt pierced right through
\nTo my soul.
\nIt pierced and left it’s mark.
\nA mark of Love.
\nA mark that only a flower could leave.<\/p>\n
But in that piercing
\nTouch, I felt a fire,
\nFelt its burn.
\nA pyrotechnical display
\nThat no-one but I could see.
\nI became that flower.
\nI saw its light and its life and
\nThe Life that is Light.<\/p>\n
‘Twas then that my sepals
\nSlowly did open;
\nCurled back, slowly;
\nBlinding my stigma with
\nThe Light of the Sun.
\nIn the morning’s rays I
\nDid stretch, and yawn,
\nAnd one by one my petals
\nOpened – opened to the Light
\nOf the Sun.<\/p>\n
And with a thousand others
\nI bent to the Sun in east,
\nFollowed its course through
\nThe Heavens,
\nAnd bowed humbly
\nIn adoration,
\nTo the west
\nAt dusk.<\/p>\n
I am a flower of God.
\nNo longer the bud,
\nClosed to the Light of the Sun,
\nAnd here do I dwell,
\nIn this earth field full
\nOf the closed buds
\nAwaiting to be opened.<\/p>\n
And once these buds may see
\nThe beauty of an open flower
\nLike me,
\nThey too, may bow to the
\nEast, in adoration,
\nAnd bow to the west humbly,
\nAnd spread, and multiply,
\nTill with Flowers of Love,
\nThis field may be filled.<\/p>\n
A carpet of open flowers
\nFit for a God to walk on.
\nThen shall the Gods walk
\nOn Earth.
\nThen shall we flowers be
\nAs the Gods,
\nBeings of Light;
\nBeings of Life.<\/p>\n
Then shall the Earth be
\nThe Heaven it is.
\nNo longer the tangled
\nLabyrinth of thorn-clad,
\nVines and parasites,
\nBut the field of
\nFlowers of the Sun. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
A Flower
Gentle,
And loving;
There is nothing more
This flower can be.<\/p>\n
I sense the feeling;
It senses my sense.
I sense its living;
Immense, and grand,
Its short life span
Within its seasonal cycle.<\/p>\n
I touch the flower.
It touched me.
Deeper than touch:
It pierced […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6,1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-210","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-metaphysical","category-poems"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/210","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=210"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/210\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":692,"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/210\/revisions\/692"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=210"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=210"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/smpoetry.amigotico.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=210"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}