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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