Each heart, like every chrysalis, must break,
its transformation complete.
Like a field it must be harrowed, deep furrows in hard earth,
broken to embrace new growth.
Waiting, unsure, winter seared, until; Spring’s first warm days when all life stirring wakes.
I let the growing beauty guide my feet, and bearing water, sing my dreams to blooms.
Every scent and shade infused,
eyes opened by beauty’s silent roar.
Content in knowing, that when at last I fall, my gathered grace returns to fertile soil.
This, in truth, is love.
Life undefined by need, born of water, spirit, earth and Sun.
Through such as I is all great beauty bred; passed on to fragrant air the blessings pour
giving to they who pass of dying less, leaving for each who comes; of loving more.