Each of us is but one flower in a many-coloured garden
Though each flower may be like others of its kind
All are unique and beautiful
Some stand straight and tall, swaying in the breezes that test their strength
They reach for the sun, spreading their petals for all to see
They bend but seldom break when the winds blow against them
Some cluster close to the ground where they are sheltered and safe
They are often shadowed by others but still their perfume is sweet and their colours clear and true
They endure and grow strong in the background yet also shade the tender roots of their towering neighbours
Some are delicate and bloom with swift fleeting beauty for but a moment in time
Other blooms last the season and give of their beauty each day until their time is spent
All are breathtaking to behold
Some are planted in the season of harvest, slumbering in the earth
Then with the coming of the warm spring sun they appear
Awakening our senses with the promise of new life
Others are planted when the danger of frost is past
Joining their early blooming comrades in ensuring
The continuous beauty and colour of the garden
Many seeds are planted
Some fall by the wayside, others are crowded out
But the strong survive to flourish and grow
Some need careful tending and care to prosper
Others seem to thrive on neglect and make the best of what they have
Still others endure seemingly endless obstacles in their stubborn will to live
Some open their petals in the early morning light then close as the day fades
Others wait until the end of day to come out, perfuming the night air
And then there are the blooms which once open continue to bare themselves to the world for as long as they are able to live
No bloom lasts forever
All living things are created with the absolute certainty that they will die
What matters is what each one makes of the life they have and how their presence on earth has affected those that are around them
The garden will eventually fade and die and perhaps be covered with a blanket of fresh snow
It will come again another season if the Universe is willing
But isn't a perfect blossom remembered with affection and sorely missed when gone
Cherish the blooms while they are ours to enjoy
Celebrate and nurture them for their time may be short
Understand that it takes many to make the beautiful garden of life
Separate, Unique, Unforgettable
Yet each is part of a glorious tapestry
Which bloom are you?
© Jan Boux (CELT) August 4, 1999