A blossom fell into a quiet pond

Its ripples ringed the water to the shore,

Disturbance stilled, the pond returned to calm,

Yet stirred a fish to surface and explore—

There rising to the floret, kissed its stem

To ascertain if it were heaven’s handsel

Then vanished in the dream-soaked depths again

To roam the dark subaqueous savannah.

That floweret now carried by the wind,

White petal sails upon a darkling sea

Soon stuck between two water lilies, pinned;

Awaiting for some gust to set it free—

I often muse upon that hapless flower,

Reflecting on the charge of heaven’s power.