Starbud

In this day,

in this land,

when the dead and the famous,

the long-gone and untouchable austere,

serve our inspirations,

motivate our struggles,

to individuals on a mass scale;

and although I, too, may

look up to the reliquaried

and the pedestaled,

the blossom beneath my nose

piques my passion

as much as the impressive

mountain upon which it blooms.

She is the flower who

permitted me to pluck her-

worn fresh in my hair,

lived in a jar,

pressed between pages.

She wilts only to curl into a star,

lifted to her rightfully high place

by the roll of one glittered eye.

The perseverance, the metamorphosis,

of one, of she,

who literally held my hand

and still can touch my heart

is beyond inspiration,

greater than dreams.

Her petals ever falling

now from rhinestone skies

drift me onward

to a triumph of my own.

                                     

 …for Mai