Poem: “The Flower”


The Flower

Twisting, strangling itself
To see

The flower is mad
Ever seeking the most beautiful

Of seven different suns
Moved by every wind

Indulging every mad whim, sapped of strength
Now weak and flattened to the grasses

The flower must choose
One Sun or die

Michele Marie


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  • Zellie. I take this to mean that to flower properly our souls must choose the one sun, i.e. the Son of God. Am I close?

    • God bless you Robert! Yes, you got it right 🙂
      At least you understand this isn’t some mad poem about depression and self-medication. Isn’t life like that though- always being pulled in different directions, even after you’ve found the one Son!