Like Van Gough in Saint-Paul
Sometimes I’m a rose planted in the battlefield of the war torn heart Or I’m a sunflower shimmering with madness like Van Gough in Saint-Paul Or I’m a calla lily Crippled by grief whenever precious things disappear. And yet Sometimes I’m an orchid Drawn to unbearable beauty and the fathoms of the fully ripened soul which knows full well that when the starry starry night finally arrives Despite the consensus of the asylum and the population at large I will close my petal eyes listen for the Song of the earth and dream of endless wildflowers.