The Journey of the Flower

 

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Imagine for a moment a flowers journey through life.  A journey that begins with it pushing up from deep within the hard earth, struggling to get through the darkness. The dark earth being all that it has known, but on and on it goes, because it is searching for the light. The flower hasn’t seen the light or been told about it but somewhere deep inside of its being it knows that there is light beyond the surface of the earth, it pushes on towards the light.

Breaking through the earth at last it encounters the cold, crisp air of a spring morning, moisture falling on it’s small and fragile body, pushing it down and back towards the earth. But something in the flower tells it to fight, to push on and stand up. The moisture passes along the tiny stem and sinks into the earth feeding it’s roots. Something that might have drowned the flower if it had given up, now feeds and nourishes it.

It begins to grow, slowly at first, but the draw of the light pulls it upwards, the flower now understands where the light comes from, the flower realises this light is it’s connection to all things. Looking around the flower starts to hear the music of nature, whispers, whistles and calls, the flower connects with the rhythm of the nature. Listening to what nature is saying the flower dances in the wind to confirm its understanding.

This is the stage the flower begins to understand it’s journey, it knows that it must open itself, it also knows that it’s opening will also be the beginning of its death. It understands the challenges ahead, but also understands the challenges are necessary to its growth.

The flower can feel a connection to the heart deep within the bud it still holds tightly closed. With the dawning realisation that there is a connection between the light of the sun and the heart, the flower begins to open its petals. Slowly at first, one by one each petal opens to bathe in the light of the sun.

The sun shines down on the open flower, warming and feeding the very heart of it. The flower knows it is near the journeys end but knows that it has reached its destination. Full of understanding and love the flower bows to the sun, bows down to the earth from where it came and closes at last, its journey complete.

lizalizaskysaregrey©2017

After the Storm

After the rain had fallen it’s last,

the clouds now empty will stray.

Like challenges that come and pass,

we too can now start a new day.

As the sun shows it’s warmest face,

lighting up what was once dark.

As brightness after challenges will,

though it might leave it’s mark.

As flowers often still hang their heads,

as wet from the gales of the night.

It might take us a while to get up again,

to fully get over each plight.

Then like a bee we bravely emerge,

trusting that things might be calm.

Looking back at the past as it fades,

so thankful we came to no harm.

After our storm has done it’s worst,

warmth will enter our lives again.

It’s the same with a rainy season,

the sun will come out after rain.

The rawness of each emotion we feel,

soothed as the storm passes on.

Standing up tall despite the past,

for our lives will still move along.

We retrieve the hopefulness we lost,

and we start to pick up our pace.

Oh the storms will come and go in life,

it’s a fact that we all have to face.

~

lizalizaskysaregrey©2017

Our Survival

Those things we fear, those awful things,

the ones that knock us down,

They are hard to bare and very unclear,

but usually how we are found.

I’m talking of the lightning struck tower,

that knocks us right off our feet,

With those fitful nights and awful dreams,

it’s so hard to go off to sleep.

Then after we usually find we survive,

it’s never as bad as it seams.

The nightmare of my impending doom,

is only played out in my dreams.

You see we’re trained to be fearful,

to always expect the worst ending,

Never account for survival it seams,

unless it’s on life we’re depending.

~

Survive

Impression of a Flower

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The flower whispered in my ear,

it was so close to me.

Heard it speak inside my head,

it wished to help me see.

For flowers grow as they do,

flowers come from love.

The flower told me gently,

it came down from above.

To work with mother nature,

to show us how to live.

To remind us of our promise,

in life we have to give.

Relying on the rains that fall,

the sunshine in the sky.

The flower is our teacher here,

the flower doesn’t lie.

It shows us how to open up,

to let things fall away.

To bow our heads at nightfall,

to wait another day.

Flowers feed all sorts of bees,

teach us how to share.

Doesn’t hold onto its pollen,

to give yourself is to care.

The flowers isn’t afraid of death,

knows it will return.

Always being springs to see,

lots more here to learn.

The flowers think we’re stupid,

in a sort of kindly way.

Not knowing we’re connected,

really don’t have a say.

We keep returning to the earth,

we get it wrong again.

Don’t understand our lessons,

judge them just as pain.

We remember more as babies,

but forget so very soon.

Unlike the gentle flowers,

we loose it when we bloom. 

It gave me a strong impression,

that it wanted to help me see.

So I would write a poem right here,

on how flowers want us to be.

~

Impression

lizalizaskysaregrey©2017

 

The Constant Sun

The sun is always there, even when it’s behind a cloud or beyond the horizon it continues to shine.  The sun has shined on us for many lifetimes, it is part of who we are, it watches over us, even in the darkest of times. It is constant, like the moon and stars, it lights the way for us. 

The sun gives us each day, warms and feeds us and allows us to see the beauty in the world, it connects us. In a divided world that is so often full of bitterness and hate there is only one sun, we can harness its power and energy, but we cannot own it.

We cannot divide the sun or control it, it is a power much greater than us. We are all at it’s mercy, the sun shines equally on everyone despite their creed, race or religion. The sun is our teacher however far away we are from learning its lessons..

Now look up at the sun, feel its warmth on your skin and tell me it’s not love.

 

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lizalizaskysaregrey©2017

Catapult to the Future

I was catapulted from a cannon,

I’m heading into space,

the catapult was so right for me,

I leave without a trace.

I had walked along a tightrope,

threw skittles in the air,

balanced a ball upon my nose,

while standing on a chair.

The catapult is quick you see,

just sends me right away,

goodbyes are not necessary,

won’t go back another day.

I left the circus in the past,

didn’t much care for the place,

I’ll embrace the world from now,

without a painted face.

~

catapult