Free Falling Flower
The beginning is a tight- wound bud of choice,
closed up around one tiny thoughtful seed
smooth and reckless in unknown potential
an egg of some rare and unnamed species.
Anything might hatch, anything might see the light.
Then the orchestration plays its song,
starving winds, a piper’s plaintive flute and bells
suspended bloom the breeze now coaxes patiently
and dancing petals bend and beg to open.
No one can stop revealing this unraveling.
The stem revolving slowly poised and changing,
just a dot upon the afterthoughts of dreaming air
whose breezes tease, exert control and mold
those petals pushing, straining out to open,
this flower stretched and groomed, designed to fall.
Ah, the leap of faith for blossom bravely plunges,
the world below is like a mouse unto its’ hawk and dive.
and every part unwinds to rushing gravity divine
falling with no net or guide, just falling
perfuming sky, while cloud banks raise their flags.
Grace is not essential for a flowering offering,
careening down abandoning both balance and restraint,
hidden petals whistling, twisting round on opening
It’s the plummet of the trusting bloom surrendering,
To forces pulling, unbinding cloistered beauty in descent.
Freedom’s sigh escapes from lips of clinging leaves,
all is open wide as in slow motion now it floats.
Who would be the one to pity this free falling choice of beauty?
Every twirl on every current, brings it closer to its marker
Every second in decline, sweet perfume paints the countryside.
And just before it makes a perfect upright landing,
it somehow knows that this is where it was to be.
The seed it carries finds its way to nurtured earth and mud
What will it grow is not decided by the trusting carrier
Whose pleasure was to only serve the need, free falling was its destiny.
June 18, 2011
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
I continue to delightfully enjoy the rich free flowing magical inner worlds where your poetry, and lately the prose
( the story of the Colored Dream Series ), are born. “Free falling Flower” takes me on a journey of beautiful dancing visions of what happens deep inside …in the non physical, inner aspects of who we are; beyond body, age, even what we may think of as our identity.
A sensuous falling of a single seed of vast potential, through the folds and recesses of our psyche, mind and the awake spirit ghost who animates us. Perhaps it is at the moment of landing, and the seed planted …is that moment when we become aware of it? When it hits the surface of our consciousness? The aha moment? Maybe such a seed created this poem? All subjective, without a single right answer…it is the journey we take it on, this seed…how it grows in our fertile Truth.
Yes Jan there are seeds of many kinds..Some fall to fertile earth and become, poems, or fulfillment, others land on rocks and wither quickly and die.
But the destiny of the seed’s carrier is to allow itself to fall…and really nothing more, but ahhh what a flight it must be too.. letting go in trust and feeling the air envelops while gravity calls you down. Thank you dear friend for this wise and deeply understood level of my poem