Yesterday I spent the day observing a flower.
The universe showed me:
That the thorn is not meant to protect
The flower from animals
Wanting to eat the rose,
as people may think.
Rather it serves as knowledge,
The sort of knowledge
A hot pot would give,
In a sense of speaking,
But not for certain in that sense.
The knowledge is of prospective:
That the rose is at its most gorgeous
At a certain distance.
The knowledge is of purpose:
That the bee must accomplish
A task, undisturbed.
The knowledge is of memory:
That when you smell, you do not touch.
The mind cannot remember a scent with a prick.
The knowledge is of beauty:
That the prettiest things will bite you,
And in the ultimate reckoning,
That is beautiful.