I watch a flower fall from its bough buoyed softly by the breeze before it lands in the grey, soulless dust; And with no leaves to shade it I watch it wilt into paleness under the sun's bleaching malevolence; I watch a wee puppy toss it in play, then tire and seek newer diversions; I watch a young girl walking by contemplate it, but it's too pale, too shrivelled to add to her pretty merriness; A botanist comes by seeking specimens, but this one is torn and damaged - I watch him toss it aside and look to the tree above with its fresh blooms - more perfect in form; I watch at last a lover pick it and tear it apart petal by petal - she loves me, she loves me not -; at last, I trample its remains into the earth - let it dissolve into elements to emerge newborn, when I come by as it blossoms again next spring.
The message is supreme;
Born in the heart,
and lilting itself
from tongue to tongue,
throwing its scent
over wind and wave;
travelling on dots
or fingers
when blindness
or silence bar its way.
It hews itself into stone
or burns itself onto magnetic discs;
it is the message that lives
and I exist
solely to pass it on.