Musings on the Everyday

Just like the flower,
everything must have
it course

from it's sun drenched
petals
to browning crisps
on the
windowsill

So too,
will the aroma
fade
as nights
blend into
days

While books extend shelves,
or walls,
or floors
those odd bookends
like the week's
have a start and
finish

What led
subtle green leaves
and colorful bright pink,
to pollinate my pages

Who picked them?
I just bought them
They did all the work
while I was at work
blossoming and
dying

Opening to gather
nutrients
rather than money
and drinking water from a glass
not the bottle
or the plastic containers

I say prayer over the
flowering remnants of
such a beauty
"O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies
In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities."
for
love is in their being

Perhaps pressing a bud
in a book I love
will give proper thanks
to it's sad pale face
while
tomorrow another chapter
will open
bright pink, colorful
towards the sun.

The First Time

This is weird
I wanted it to be special
but my overanalyzing is the death of impulse
How often are true artists given the ability to shine without doubt
Those who change are those who break up the status quo

Musings on the Everyday:
After the weather clears up
and the sulking behind cold curtains stops
the ability to breath is much easier
...
another day, but another day's burden gone
another time, yet another time spent
another breath, yet another breath forgotten
...
the music today is ringing!
something like
"REVOLUTION! In peace."
Let's have a peaceful revolution