Rising from this bosom, this garden of conflagration, from a bed of blessed ashes –
Uncurling fingers that touch the sky, a new song that woos the dawn like wind blowing forever across an endless horizon.
Your lips kiss the sun, its warmth caressing the soft meat of your face, affirming your death in life with a promise of life beyond death to life unending.
Flowing through mortal veins from the predestined soil, an essence transforming into what was not yet has always been and will be again: a mortality seeking immortality through diversity and self-realization…a flower born to transcend its looming fate.
As your thoughts expand throughout each of your petals as a language of colors and enchanting aroma, your march across time embodies the journey you have traveled and foretells the path that may yet await.
In your Protea Soul lies one of many and among many one –
As bound as freed by the seeds of truth in a heart that knows all that bloom must burn to blossom and live again.