Meditation on a Rose

I watch you.

So long that I forget about time.

So intently that I forget about space.

I watch you until I forget what you are called.


Eventually, I am no longer watching you.  

A watcher is separate, and I have become

the suede of your petals,

the sinew of your stalk,

the sting of your thorn,

the essence of your fragrance,

the photosynthesis of your leaves.


For a moment longer than time and

smaller than a split atom

you and I are one.

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