magoski
Flowers
in the Dawn
speak freely
"We remember beauty.
We die for it. No one will see us
if we ..."
and then a pause
silence
there's fingers in the ground
"The vibrations we feel
are the ones not heard."
Flower says trembling,
"We bloom to please.
To be picked"
"Is civility", says the Sun,
"the removal of possibility?"
Fingers in the soil
quietly
smiles
"Find me a way to spontaneity.
Repetition is clearly
the mechanization of control"
And the dew crawls away