Chrysanthemum

My flower blooms in the

Soft autumn winds

Where leaves drop and

Decompose in the tainted soil

Of ugliness painted around

My past roots which rot with bugs

Yet sustain the growth of myself

Transcendent upon myself is the

Celestial moonlight which flows

Mist upon my pollen like waves across the sea in sunset,

Dusty images of the sun on the violent lavender horizon

My shown self oozes into a liquid like ink on my true self

I do not know if the rain modifies my flower

…<….>….<….>…

When the rain destroys who I show

Like my creator’s acetum

Which destroy the pink quills

Who write my name chrysanthemum

…<….>….<….>…

A clear glass chrysalis hangs below my very leaves

Each dangling move within

Creating a song of one

In the calmed mountain breath

Which awakens to the imperfect beauties

Within the birds who pollenated my predecessors

…<….>….<….>…

My pink quills write the beginning of

The ethereal story of the hazy morning sky

…<….>….<….>…

And in this light sky a

Grasshoppers soft music

With green instruments of rust on tin

Fades across the sea with the hands of awakened time