“I suppose that flowers, when they’re through blooming, have some sort of awareness of some purpose having been served.” ~ Kurt Vonnegut
I think we all have a purpose, my loves ~ as noble as the flower’s bloom. Though gentler, still she moves – casting faith towards an endless light.
Patiently she waits, with back pressed against wooden gate ~ knowing the pales of Winter may find her soon.
Until then, her heart knows only to bloom.
Namaste, my loves ~