today's the day the flowers sit and chat
amongst themselves. the devil sat beside
them all - and in the softest voice so calm
he told them of a story true the skies
as green and grass as blue. i now wish to
recount to you the devil's tale to flowers.
a short delight this tale should be. i share
with you a sight to see. an image for
your mind to breathe. the air is light, sunshine
is free. in this place " eternity "
there sat a man twenty and three. he wished
for peace amongst himself; instead received
naught but his health. so there he sat, alone
tormented shamed at self for how he spent his
time was sad and so he laid asleep.
[and that's where it kinda just left me and i couldn't write anymore, so instead i have this version of it as well.]
he wasn't allowed to look directly at the flower.
There was a little too much,
well, danger to its well being.
So, he refrained.
Instead, with blowing glances he
refreshed the imagery in his own mind.
And that was the blessing of his curse.
The mind's eye cannot keep still.
To replace everlasting perfection in
that snapshot sway
he was granted moments of
involving the now & then
the is & was
the will be's.
Better was the stillness that encompassed such change
No two glances the same, yet
nothing ever truly different
How much beauty in that empty space
between when he was allowed to look and
when he was forced to ook away
how much more in the infinitely singular
moments between when infatuation
He listened to the flower's whispers
[and then that one dies too. but there was one that chronologically comes in between the writings of the others, so I guess I should put what little of it exists.]
So the devil spoke his sweetest words attempts at gaining trust
he loved a single flower so for him change was not much
the words flowed endlessly on topics he cared for not
but devils's tales can't be derailed except by Cupid's shot
his heart was snatched by richest greens and deepest golds in eye
as they stared back he forved himself convinced of simple lie[s].
he told the story quickly through, of how the stems could scarcely move
under trance of one so [illegible]
but flowers always know
[and there you have it. three failed attempts at the devil meeting flowers.]