The same happens with flowers.
They seed and candidates unsolicitedly wait.
Eagerly left to surmise at warmth’s loyalty,
debating its appearance
episodal or spring-induced,
tempting and flirting with risk to be the fullness of their beauty.
Depth and density of life’s fullness comes through awareness. Will you cultivate a consciousness that postures you to taste divinity within the throes of the day? Will the rhythms of daily living become mundane, even pleasing, suitable, and good? Or, will you let yourself be captured by the spectacle of love in the act? There’s a deep river of flow found buried beyond reason and definition that lets us splatter and tickle others with love from a place of abundance and excess. Love manifests and blooms from an infinite, Cosmic Singleness. Our acts of random compassion and benevolence cannot be wasted, isolated, uneconomic, or meaningless. There’s not a heirarchy to scaffold the varying weights and values of Love, as if it was something to be delineated, monopolized, or consumed.