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Writer's pictureA.F.

Solomon’s Sonnet

Meaningful

In an ecclesiastical land

I have made meaning

I have tended it

Watched it grow

I have

Cultivated and been

Cultivated like never before.

A flower only blooms when it feels safe to do so

When the weather is warm

And the conditions are just so

It opens quite slowly

Like the way other things grow

Not overnight change

But still a miracle

When it’s cold, it closes back up

When it’s dark, it’s hides

When the sun comes up

It moves

When the sun hides

It hides too.

A flower can be ripped apart and still be “useful”

Dissected

And inspected

And judged

And measured

But that’s not it’s purpose

It’s purpose is beauty

The alternative is

Rape

And pain

And harm

Even if unintentional.

An unbloomed flower can’t do much to reproduce

Reproduce itself maybe

If forced

But not in a way that’s cultivating the garden

When cultivated

A flower opens and it’s seed

Is blown about by the wind

Which is chaotic

I get it!

Chaos is scary.

We’ve been very well trained that

Order is superior

Being tossed about by the elements

Must

Be

Interrupted.

For flexibility is dangerous

When order is praised.

Well, their order.

The world has order too.

It recorrects

It balances

It equalizes

And perhaps the “extremism”

Is just the earth

Rebalancing

Bringing order in its most natural

Form

Atomic love

What can this be?

That thou, my love, has given me.

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