Mantra at the crack of dawn is a strange and eerie sound: an oxymoron exercised in juxtaposition.
Most mornings hold the final scenes of dreams, sweet or bone-chilling. Today, not so much. The lantern rattled to end a verse begun at an interrupted time. Not only is it rare to return to unharvested fields, but also the delivery vehicle is not standard issue.
Flowers are often found in Mantra’s verse, but most often they are nothing more than accessories to the scene. Today, they personify the theme. Do not be fooled by the simple title, Wish Fertilizer. It is truly a play on words.
I tripped on the shadow of a daisy
walking across a field of broken dreams.
I wondered how the flowers could flourish.
The warm thatch was thick beneath my belly,
a mattress teeming with life in the sun.
Brilliant color danced with summer’s panache.
Just beneath the tender green shoots and leaves
were gristle and dry bones, yesterday’s blooms,
A support network of lives lived fully.
Each gave their beautiful best one warm spring,
faded dusky color in autumn’s chill,
folded beneath the crush, white and snowy.
Now, the new blooms benefit from the past;
The cycle of life is again complete.
Unbeknownst lies potential’s wasted wish.
Although we know we could not be where we are without those who went before, do we ever consider the unfulfilled dreams of those who sacrificed for us?
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