A flower springs up from the ground,
Grows, buds, blooms, flourishes, then fades,
And fading, disappears. 'Tis natural
Thus to live and die, not knowing fear,
But standing boldly forth. Sadly, though,
We are not flowers, and we have grown
Somewhat less than natural.
Now it may be we cannot be
As we no doubt once were
But still, I think, we've much to learn
From a simple woodland flower:
First, to lose our fear, if only now and then,
But also to learn to always grow
And make the world beautiful.
October '01
| <-feeding the flowers | My Work | Behind the Mask-> |