A whole soul

Full of mischief and free of guile,

This flower blooms in the desert.

It rains on command,

And petals turn towards the moon glow.

Underneath, however, the roots have

Taken possession of the inner realms.

Here she is, the mother of Providence.

She feeds and nurtures those who dwell

Within her network,

An empire of gratitude and giving.

She takes that which is precious

With ferocious certitude,

Only to bring it to the surface,

So that all may partake of its beauty.

And when she must die,

She does so peacefully,

Allowing those petals to fall

To grainy earth with the wind of

An late fall to guide them.

It is time for her Ascent.

To bring the nearness of leaf and

Stamen to the stars,

Feed them with delight,

To un-become, drawing all

Fragments to herself,

Expressing infinity in a

Higher spiral of time.