Each flower is innocent:
she is a song of yielding to Nature
received as given, without questioning.

Each flower is innocent:
she is perfection in loveliness and goodness
by her submission to Nature’s decree which reads
“thou shalt reflect infinite beauty in a finite garden”.

Each flower is innocent:
she gives boundless joy to the heart,
untouched by men’s thought on life or science.
She knows not even that she is or is a thing called flower.
There are no words hanging from her petals,
or libraries –altering the aroma of heaven-
in which to study herself.

Each flower is innocent:
in the single contentment of being
she bursts through the ground, blossoms and withers
according to the rhythms and cycles etched in her memory.
She does not disturb the universal silence by asking
“why am I rooted in this damp sweet earth?
what is my source and my finality?”

Every flower is innocent:
when Spring’s light warms the garden,
she frolics, naked, in the breeze, thankful
for the gentle ray that travels from afar to touch her.
Her wisdom rewards as she explodes into glorious flowering.
Singing the song of gladness.

Each flower is innocent:
she knows not of joy or pain, life or death.
She remains forever empty, yet fills men’s hearts,
as a language of joy in their loves and of comfort in their pains.
In the flowering season she remembers the secrets of rebirth;
life’s memory is woven into a serenity of petals,
the ambrosia of pollen, the pride of stem.
Open and unafraid, she invites
the bee to feast on her.

Each flower is innocent:
she is the dance of light reborn as beauty,
within her glorious harmony speaks a quiet voice;
the key to a sacred universe is held…
Yet, she knows nothing,
absolutely nothing.

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