The Flower in the Children

I stood behind the little flower that had forced itself through the snow. It was a small tender thing with a stem so slim it appeared to be merely a thread. I was entranced by the strength such a sweet creature could display.

When I was a young human I felt empty of sufficient personal power. The Word said to children is that what they need for living must be found coming from other people, while The Weights and Measurements must first be learned before any attempt at expression can be made. Is it any wonder that loss of self starts early?

Now, no longer a child, I have reclaimed my Flowerness (not botanically speaking, of course — for neither is a Flower only a  flower, botanically speaking). I have reclaimed, in the face of absurdity, the living stuff of Life. Fragile is my Soul, not from weakness but from a Self exquisitely refined. My petal-like Intentions display endless harmony and joy while the reed that sings my Song is long and graceful and true. I’ve become Myself in a world that does not acknowledge what is real, but it matters, only, that – I – know what I bring. There is Power in the fiber of my makeup and I need its strength and courage to remember and express the one I Really Am.

So do the Children who grow here. We must tell them, often, of the invisible Substance they already possess for their journey.

Comments are closed.