the flower can only wait
for the bee to arrive
yet passion appears from nowhere
to play hide and seek with peace
all that is gained is lost once again
timeless dreams are swallowed
in the yawn of an awakened sleeper
yet spring arises like a phoenix
from the ashes of winter
all that is lost was never real
is the heart big enough
for the source of weeping
is the heart big enough
for this pure delight
Nirmala
Photo: Peter Bowers