The candles are lit in readiness,

For some light to be thrown on our lives,

To show us a way,

The way,

Where we might find true love,

The love which does not reside outside,

But inside.

Where the divine rests, waiting to be awakened.

Who decided how flowers should be arranged?

Like a compressed garden for the eyes,

Cuddled up likes lovers on a summers evening,

Co-existing, spraying out the perfect perfume …

Harmony.

So this plant is not perfect,

Has some shedding petals,

Sun damage,

Irritated by insects,

Who are really only doing their job …

And signs of a gangly and unwieldy growth.

However, parts of me are still a joy to behold. It gives me hope.