The moment of being.

By: Elizabeth M. Livingstone

The slim line of a dandelion seed
flowed past my vision
like a car wreck
crashing in slow motion.

My deep green eyes watched it,
examined it, devoured it.
The sum of my life in its simple beauty.
How did it come to be before me,
this fragile, tiny thing?

A life full of happenstance and
meaningful coincidences
having led to this, its final destination.

A gentle breeze lifted the bit
of white fluff from the bed of its host
and brought it up into the void of
nothingness beyond its leaves expanse.

Like a life unfulfilled, in a boat adrift,
the ball of purity floated,
bouncing from rose bushes, thorny
and piercing to a flowing small river,
bending around the curve of ancient
oak trees that lined its rocky shore.

How far had it traveled from
its root and stem?

The home of its parent flower,
strong, standing tall in the
formidable winds that attempted to
knock it over.

The frenetic hands that pulled the
dainty flower, whole from the rich soil
where it lived, unaware of the
damage done to the careful balance
where life held its ground.

The small black seed held onto the thin stem,
the perfect symmetry of its form
as it gathered momentum,
swirling and tumbling to…where?

As it passed, the darkness noted
the fallen heroes limp in the stream below,
hoping to be washed ashore and
discover the grace of a
warm moist bed and foothold.

As I blinked, the story of its
life unfolded before me.
All the senses of man are alive
in the crossing of distant
meandering paths.

A blink of an eye to the
mightiest of nature’s stare.
I watched as it halted in the air,
a vacuum of blue, pausing
as I breathed in its journey.

Then it continued its fall from
the sun and landed in the
brown earth by my feet.
What had it experienced in
its journey to Now?
This small bit of delicate gauze?

How alike we are, though you’d
not think so by first appearances,
as we drift and float amongst the stars,
only to be trodden beneath a heavy boot.

Cherry Blossom

I sat and stared under a tree
For a long time
I asked it to tell me what it knows
It said something along the lines
“God wild do always go”
At first he made me question myself
Looking again for the musical notes played
Along the leaf
The piano at its feet
Have ears sung wrong to me
Sing the songs of time and mystery off key
Little tree? We sat silently
Till sunset when I heard
“God wild do always go”
Said softly as it I’d know
The message that breezed by me
I left that tree when the moon took its height
At midnight
Stepping away, it’s sad to say, but it felt good
To not need something to lean upon.

- Ryley St.Rose-Finear