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By Ron Button
As the wind would blow, shifting flowers in the breeze.
The pollen of one circles thru the air, like the waves of the seas.
Quickly it floated, exploring each open gate.
Always anticipating, making the choices, till it found the right mate.
As the particle of life embedded itself firmly.
It left a promise, a great commitment, of a being well worthy.
The restless seed shuffling, wanting to be more.
The breeze lifted it, planted it in God’s bed, now a reason to live for.
The roots and reason, although fragile and weak.
Pushing deeper, growing stronger, till the sprout reached the peak.
While resting and gazing, the sprout saw it’s first light.
With wonder, filling with nourishment, till it saw it’s first night.
With each passing day, sprout turned to stem.
Virgin petals, innocent figure, beauty would soon set in.
Growing ever so rapidly, reaching for the light.
As spring left, summer came, a bud sprung upward in delight.
Stretching little by little, petals of red and yellow.
First outward, then inward, like the motion of a bellows.
Quietly it motioned, in splendor it felt.
Places to go, things to see, much to be felt.
For the first time, confused with inspiration.
A bed of roses, a field of carnations, the thought of creation.
The thankful ones, the harmful masks.
In matter, the causes, to deal with the task.
Confection is the purpose, maturity, the battle.
To live, to grasp, God and Satan rock the cradle.
With love and hate, she learns in awesome.
To appreciate, to comfort, to be…
Ron Button is a poet and friend from the street.[/fusion_text][/one_full][imageframe lightbox=”no” lightbox_image=”” style_type=”none” hover_type=”none” bordercolor=”” bordersize=”0px” borderradius=”0″ stylecolor=”” align=”none” link=”” linktarget=”_self” animation_type=”0″ animation_direction=”” animation_speed=”0.1″ animation_offset=”” hide_on_mobile=”no” class=”” id=””] [/imageframe]