In other dimensions, the sun and the flower are equals, both needing each other.
Birth and death are the breath.
For every outward breath, there is release; for every inward breath, new life.
Plant me, bloom me, let me be planted; let me be uprooted.
Exhale and let me open to the extra-vagancy of your wandering, your spiraling golden perfection, your flowering heart.
Let me bloom where you plant me with your breath, my life, my love!
I love the breath, the breath of the self-similatory, fractally unfractured, Divine Common Factor
(These are a set of spiral poems for spiritual affect, beginning with “The Fragility of Vitamin D-ear-ness-t”.)