In murky depths..
upon the bottom
of a shallow pond.
A seed lies dormant..
planted in a bed of mud.

Is it not warmth..
that prompts its stems,
at once, to sprout?
The stems that promptly
reach for source..
the origin of warmth
that penetrates
the dark and deep..
we know it as
The Sun

Is it not light..
unseen but felt,
that gives it strength
to grow its roots?
The rhyzome
anchoring it
in the mud..
to nourish
its pursuit
of truth.

The deepest truth
for it to seek,
however, lies upon
the surface,
yes, indeed..
not in the source
it reaches for..
it rather lies
within.

The truth
embodied by it,
all along,
though still
it may not know..
the blueprint
that it incarnates..
that pushes it
to grow.

This truth
is evident to us
as beauty
that it doesn’t
have the eyes
to see.
It is a beauty
lived by it
as truth of being..
of awakening
from its
developmental
dream.

This truth
is evident to it
the very moment
that it is to you
and me.
That all along
the it we spoke of
was The Lotus..
beautiful in all
its truthful being.
Blooming and
pristine.