Flowers
Andrew Paul
Copyright Andrew Paul All Rights Reserved 2012
I saw the wind rip a daisy, from the comfort of its home, then pluck the pretty peddles like a Morning Star plucking the Sun's beams. I grew cold. Pillow case over a face, the daisy suffocated, while the wind, deflowered it, one yellow tear at a time. Uprooted, and abused of its beauty, the flower had run out of tears to cry, so the wind threw its manipulated body to the side. She loves him - not. A knot in my insides, a stabbing pain in his side, I ran over to the body and cried, as it died. God promised He'd never flood the Earth again, but I didn't. So I cried, and I cried, and I cried. The rain poured from my thunder cloud eyes, and those same tears offered their life to the Weeping Willows and Dying Dandy Lions saying "Drink of me and thrive!", but Statistically, every two minutes a flower dies, and 1 in 6 will never bloom.
Kneeling down, drowning in me, suddenly, a warm shadow swam next to me. Caressing sound waves soothed the school bell in my head and said "Turn to me, in your time of need." My soul, as broken as a shattered ghost, turned to face the stranger. Earth seemed to hug his shoes, his dirty hands, well worn and used, his uniform, a symbol of protection, I knelt in The Gardner's presence. He broke his knees and kelt with me, and reached for death ever so gently. Holding the daisy, he looked at me, then kissed the flower with a sweet whisper saying, "From broken flesh to broken flesh, live, and beautify the Earth." In one second, millenniums, turned to years, and years turned to months, and months turned to days, and days turned back to seconds, and seconds turned into eternity and memories now flooded the Earth of who this flower had been and where this flower will go, and in love The Gardener commanded, "Grow." In honest obedience, the Daisy stretched its rosettes, it had been restored from death, hugging life. The Gardener, then turned to me, and said with warm expectation, "Take my spade, and prepare a place of protection." In clear intention, I speared the Earth, potential now waited to grow from the dirt. The Gardener rested the daisy, tucking her in and said, "Dear love, this won't happen again. Though still damaged but WHOLE, I'll not rest till you bloom, and the honey bees, once again, dance with you. To heal completely will take time, but time I know not. Grow into my power my most precious, precious flower."
