Quote

The haste of man is a grime that dresses the land with dust and ash.

The black eyes of misery reflect the faces of those that have passed in death.

The thoughts that death makes bleary … shine through milky eyes.

The roots of life become sawdust under the wheels of war.

The weeping cannot be silenced as the weapons make the air cough.

Tongues become rust and the words ash.

The remembrance of milk filled breasts become the compost for another day.

But the day will always remember your glorious form, as your roots become the mummies for the history books.

In all forms that sunflower … that is you … is perfect.

The bees will continue to search for you.

The pollen of your presence continues to waif in the breezes of the seasons.

You grasped at life and remembered your glory … for a moment.

Even in death you are a scepter of power and a beacon of a past.

A hope of a life still yet to come.

~Suzanne Wagner~

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You Are A Sunflower Too…

I have always loved sunflowers. Perhaps it is because of my Leo sign. They shine in the light and reach up in the day. And they turn their heads towards each other in the night, as the brightness of the sun they have gathered is the most brilliant light in the darkness.
They learned to give and take that much needed glow from each other.
Today, be that sunflower and turn your head towards the brightest light you can find. That may not be in the news and what is happening in the world. It may be seen in the faces of children or in the joy of your dog as it fetches a ball.
Or even better, let yourself be that sunflower.

Even in the life of a sunflower there are stages and graces.

You can be the energy of the hope leaping from the soil, trying to grab a moment of life before something tries to taste its moistness and experience its sweet crunchiness.

You can be the reflection of the sunflower as it is rapidly growing and generating toughness in its stalk that has the flexibility for the wind and the stickiness to repel bugs that want to eat it.
You can be that gentle bud beginning to show its promise to a future day and time. The hope of a tomorrow, to live again, in another.

You can allow yourself to become that spectacular yellow and gold flower with the sunrise becoming your face.
You can shine so bright that your beauty stops those passing by to admire your radiance as they must celebrate your life with you for a moment and smile.

You can become that sunflower as it uses up all its energy to manifest the multitude of seeds in the setting sun. Its head beginning to droop, and the black seeds shining more brightly as the petals begin to look like the remaining spikes of the Twin Towers after the fall.
You can be the old and dried up face that smiles toothless and crackles as the wind blows through the fields and its seeds drop to the ground or as the birds peck away at the abundance of what was offered as its gift.

Even a battered sunflower is a holy thing of grace and wonder.

The haste of man is a grime that dresses the land with dust and ash.

The black eyes of misery reflect the faces of those that have passed in death.

The thoughts that death makes bleary … shine through milky eyes.

The roots of life become sawdust under the wheels of war.

The weeping cannot be silenced as the weapons make the air cough.

Tongues become rust and the words ash.

The remembrance of milk filled breasts become the compost for another day.

But the day will always remember your glorious form, as your roots become the mummies for the history books.

In all forms that sunflower … that is you … is perfect.

The bees will continue to search for you.

The pollen of your presence continues to waif in the breezes of the seasons.

You grasped at life and remembered your glory … for a moment.

Even in death you are a scepter of power and a beacon of a past.

A hope of a life still yet to come.

~Suzanne Wagner~