There's nothing more
true than letting
go.  Ironically, there's
nothing to hold
onto anyway.

Flowers blooming in
a wide field
following the Sun's
arc - there is no
zenith, only what
they're after.  Still,
they move with
the wind whether
it's gentle or
violent.  And when
they are uprooted
and torn apart
they do not blame
the wind for they
have done what
they could and still
are.  Even in pieces,
with ripped petals and
broken stems, they
know how to give.