Blossoming Wisdom

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How many pulses,
how much life force
does it take from seed to bloom?
And never does the flower ask:
Am I too big?
Are my colors too bright?
Is it ok to be true, beautiful?
It blossoms, ever-opening in its season,
perfect way, striking in sweet scent,
innocent and pure in delicate petal, detail
unfurling to wholeness again
and again and again.

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Night Delivery

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Dream wisps linger
and dissolve in first light,
the fog of in-between
symbol and form
leaving remnants
like a night tide delivering
shells of the unconscious
closed, cracked, just barely
hingeing open,
each a discovery
or part of a sea story
washing me home.