"The complacent accept what they are unwilling to change."
Desert Spirit
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
The Sunflower
Anne Marie Cotter
The sunflower grows in her garden of illusion.
In her grandiosity she seeks the sun.
Closer and closer
she grows toward it,
thinking she’s found a source only for her nourishment;
closer and closer,
day by day
until it burns too hot.
She feels betrayed by the scorching heat
and turns away.
Heavier and heavier,
she sees the falseness
in her climbing,
seeking,
wanting.
She sees her illusions,
her pomposity,
her showy petals
in which she took pride,
the bloom she thought
was herself.
She turns away from the source
of the heat -
the burning light.
She cries her tears.
Betrayed with a darkened sky,
the warmth withdrawn,
pelting rain
whipping wind
she bends in her humiliation.
With stooping back and turning leaves
she weeps for the falseness of herself,
her wants, needs, illusionary love.
She can never own the sun
yet she has absorbed its light.
Even the cold, wet rain
has nourished her
against her will.
Within her humility lies her grandeur.
In her falseness and craving,
seeking for warmth,
she has mated with the universe within herself.
As she cries her tears
her grandeur is released
to nourish,
take root
or spread upon the wind
and grow.
The splendor,
magnificence,
nobility,
dignity
were within her all along.
The sun does not care.
It gives to her
unselfishly,
unceasingly,
as it gives to all who ask.
It allows her grandiosity,
honoring her grandeur
knowing it will pour forth
in the blossom’s death.
