My heart is a garden
I’m a floraphile and the people of the world are my botanists
My flowers bloom at high-noon
Where each day is a new situation
Each colour petal is a different emotion
And each flower is a string of my heart.
My physiology provides the nature for each seed to grow or perish
My very heart-beat provides the vibrational frequencies allowing for the proper levels of nourishment and nurturing.
But this grove in my chest is a public garden.
And while I support its life, continual growth, or death – I am not the one who plants its seeds.
I am merely the reaper of what you sew.
Plant your seeds wisely.
The seeds of love, passion, trust, respect and communication take tender care.
They take many days to grow.
They bloom in many colours
And each seed can give life to multiple blossoms.
But know that the seeds of despair, malice, greed, distrust and hurt take but a moment to bud.
No sooner then they hit the symbiotic soil sifted from my soul do they spring from sew to spray.
They bloom in the decayed colours of the flowers that used to flourish around them
And each bloom holds but one bud that never blossoms.
We are florists for the dead petals or bouquets that we tend to within ourselves.
But we are also all the horticulturalists of each other’s garden.
Reap Gently.
Sew carefully.
Bloom fully.
Love beautifully.
Wax Poetic 