I wish to evoke the quintessence of Flower.
And so, I wish to become her.

The rain comes from above, deep into the soil, and makes its way to the roots.
Water is sipped up by leaves, and up by petals, and disappears into clouds.
Earth becomes Sky, Sky becomes Earth.

And so, they become her.

Flower is a bridge between realms, and a whisper from the beyond.
Her molecules are born from asteroid dust, her spirit a gift from the Sun.
Her babies are carried into the unknown — by the wind, by the snow, by whatever comes.
She offers herself to be consumed, filling tiny bug bodies with nectar spun from the stars.

And so, she becomes them.

Flower does not contend with animal curiosity or desire.
She exists beyond ego, devoted to the Greater Nature.
By day, she shamelessly scatters her seed with the wind, with the snow.
By night, she folds her bloom away, resting in quiet anticipation of the dawn.
She is healer and poison, delicate yet unyielding.
She blossoms in brilliance, and then rots in grace, returning to the soil in her new shape.

She is a humble conduit for eternal transformation.

And so, she becomes me.