My sorrow is like a lily of the valley,
In its wintry blossoming I am grateful
for the supple beauty that hides within a cold abysmal setting,
and for the lessons that are bountiful and mysterious.

As it dies (as do all things)
I must give it quiet space to decompose into the ground of my being.

May the fruits of spring grow from its fertile soil...

May I watch in wonder as my vessel transforms
from its withering inward gaze
into a source of radiance which manifests
in the season of abundant light.

May the lessons observed,
guide me as life yields a new chapter
with its own complexity and emotion.

May my knowledge grow to meet these complexities
with wisdom and a deeper capacity to find joy.

May the mysteries of this constructed web
unravel to allow for the beauty of each moment
to shine brilliantly in my orb of sight sound and sensation.

May the spring come with joy, and may it leave kindly
so that I may yet again reside in my wintry repose