Like the Flowers


Always trying to make sense of things…
but are they meant to make sense?
I look up at the blue sky–
does it need to be measured?
I hear the wind rush past my ears
stirring my hair, stirring the branches,
stirring the grass, the leaves–
does the wind need definition?
And the flowers…
when the first rays of sun touch them,
are they pulling out their mobile phones,
checking email and hoping for a better life?
Trying to make sense is nonsense.
Maybe I can lift up my face in the morning
and let the sun’s warmth kiss me
as it kisses the flowers.
And maybe, like the flowers,
I can simply blossom in that beautiful light,
because that was what I was always meant to do.

Please share your thoughts. Your presence here is greatly appreciated.

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