Miss Peonie

     In the world’s rat race,

We state our case,

Through the bloom of identity name.

We endeavor to flower

Our most prominent face,

By the growth

Of healthy root systems.

     And if we reach the top,

Man’s idea of triumph,

We may be lucky enough

To see the shop,

Of God,

A working of truth,

Where every human filter

Is gone,

And we see, instantly,

How small it seems that,

This unique place we’ve carved,

Wears,

In comparison,

To His song of grace.

     Oh my LORD,

There she is,

By Him,

Given,

Her time and space,

Miss Peonie,

Blossoming beneath,

The spruce needles.

Amazing to come upon a lost flowering plant, forgotten by a hedgerow of height.

Amazing to come upon a lost flowering plant, forgotten by a hedgerow of height.

©2015 C. E. Eksuzian, all rights reserved.

About Cindy Eksuzian

See my "about me" page.
Gallery | This entry was posted in Awakening, FAITH, Flowers, Human Dignity, Innocence and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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