A Touch of Eternity

“The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the dove is heard in our land.” – Song of Songs 2:12

Behold the interior of a tulip. Notice the six stamens surrounding its centred pillar. So vulnerable and fragile, yet forever drawing us in through its warm and colourful petals. For a mind free from distraction one might be moved to love deeply this splendid sight. They remind us of the impermanence of things. Does not such innocence capture a glimpse of the ineffable; an untamed beauty, both restrained and boundless to the imagination. Before science imposed its restrictions upon her with a remote and cerebral language, this flower was the centre of a civilization. People woke in their beds to dream again of her soulful fragrance. This romantic sentiment swept through Europe with the yearning of a long and arid summer without rain. It’s hard to believe that there was a time and place when such things mattered to the human race. Whereas in this day and age few will even pause to notice a tulip, not alone appreciate its inner revelation, as though our souls have become barren to the touch of eternity.
—
From the top of a precipice
With a tulip in my hand
And a song upon my lips
My wandering dance unplanned
—
These are the days of forever
Spinning along in their way
Nature unfolds a anew
Snuffing what has gone astray
—
Laughter echoes thro the trees
Buildings fall into decay
What matters now is over
Summer is a time for play.