The Flower (花)

golden-splendour-of-autumn-edinburgh-castle-pam-mckenzie

Picture by Pam McKenzie

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Love is like a flower.

You can pluck it and macerate it,

Make a perfume

That will provide you with an illusory sense

Of permanence of its scent;

But that is not a flower anymore,

It has become something else: it’s dead,

Like a memory.

Or,

You can contemplate it, caress it, smell it,

Be aware of it with all your being,

Go and visit it every single day;

The flower will still be a flower,

Vital, thriving, alive,

And so you will be.

Huā.

 

Herons

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