Still vibrant.
For how much longer, though?
They were bought and brought home maybe a week ago. Or longer. How many days before that were they cut off from their roots?
How much longer can they last?
And is this not the way of all flesh? The moment we are born -- the moment the cord is cut, they say, we begin our dying.
But look how long we are vibrant. How long we vibrate with the pulse of life. Pulse the heartbeat of God. Unfold, open and offer -- each of us, our own flowering of God's glory.
I like what Richard Rohr (or was it Diana Butler Bass?) says about each of us and every other creature and created thing being a unique and singular emergence in time of some element or aspect of the Divine, at once eternal and transient. I like the way Leonard Cohen puts it, that we are "really nothing but the brief elaboration of a tune." (Nothing but ... but is there anything more or grander than this humble service?)
I am grateful.
For the flowers in their brief time. For what they are, and what they show me of something more.
For my life and yours and all life vibrating both now and forever with the purpose and pulse of God.
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