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Rose
I'm sitting in a field of flowers,
All very yellow and beautiful.
Everything that is anything and of everything I care.
And yet my focus is not on the endless field of gold.
My eyes are fixed, my attention brought to a rose.
A rose withered and dead lying in the field. It's potential crimson beauty accent a field of sunflowers.
Why can I not appreciate the field of sunflowers? Are they not more vast and popular?
And yet I can see just one rose.
Color faded and not quite dead.
I had forgotten.
There is no rose,
Only a sunflower in its place and I see my leaves turn green and my head catch fire.
I bloom into the accent of the field, and I remember.
In this way I value the sunflower.
© Yoda
All very yellow and beautiful.
Everything that is anything and of everything I care.
And yet my focus is not on the endless field of gold.
My eyes are fixed, my attention brought to a rose.
A rose withered and dead lying in the field. It's potential crimson beauty accent a field of sunflowers.
Why can I not appreciate the field of sunflowers? Are they not more vast and popular?
And yet I can see just one rose.
Color faded and not quite dead.
I had forgotten.
There is no rose,
Only a sunflower in its place and I see my leaves turn green and my head catch fire.
I bloom into the accent of the field, and I remember.
In this way I value the sunflower.
© Yoda
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