How the sky changes hue,
I once asked the wildflowers;
They said a zephyr wings to mantle
Souls wilted in wee small hours.
There, each day, they blossom
Ten thousand brilliant times,
Each shimmer a new shade
Between sunset and sunrise.
At dusk, their petals withdraw;
Light coalesced into midnight dew,
Twinkling in dark eternal valley,
Fragrant, gentle jewels.
How these wildflowers worship
Is with no heaven, nor any hell;
Their perfumed prayers ring, singing:
All is well, all is well.