And as everyone gathered around

the chief storyteller said,

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there was a violet 

that gave away 

 ~ Once ~

as part of a congregation of 

holy stillness

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~ then ~


as a lone heart

offering its nectar

for pleasure's sake.
  

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~ One dawn in time ~

 The sloping contour

of a harp

held

notes in anxious tension

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~ while in the next stroke ~

 arched shoulders unfolded

 to relieve

a flurry of praise.

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~ Long ago~

a soul embraced a tear
 
as a tender shoot holds

a dew drop on its 

velvet cheek
 

~ then years later~

the tear drops still fall

but courage leaves 

 doubt behind. 

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~ One particular day ~

a tea pot pours 

"liquid wisdom"

into a cup.

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~ another day ~ 

an invisible fluidity

of wisdom

takes a sip of imagination. 

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We live more than 

   Something 

is at the tip of your pen

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your brush

or your fingers

waiting for closer 

 examination

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and expression

that elevates your target

of interest

to a higher purpose.

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And all the while

something changes.

But the flower is still 

a flower

and a 

tear is still a tear.

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  not the world, but you.

If we dare

we live

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