To the wilting flower, I give no sympathy,
Or the blooming of a bud does not interest me.

Nor the stem that gives it birth,
or even its bed, the earth.

No colour scheme captures my eye,
from its beauty, I shall not sigh.

Through all the seasons that we face,
we are one with time and space.

So in my thoughts, I remain aware,
of my consciousness I take care.

Understanding emotions are fleeting,
analyze the flower as part of life's greeting.

Be the river that comes and goes,
divert into outlets as it flows.

Be the desert but not the storms,
watch the oasis as it forms.