Orchids

I just wanted to confess that out of all the flowers that light up this world, most definitely orchids do the trick for me.  I like flowers, all of them, with the exception of those fake dyed electric blue roses that seriously even smell like plastic to me. 

My pick for flowers is such a great analogy to my persona.  I either absolutely love wild little flowers: unpretentious, grown in a bunch, pretty sturdy.  Or I fall for orchids: eccentric, somewhat posh, expensive, singular. 
Extremes, as you may see. 

Orchids speak to me of elegance.  Of a certain strength in the stem like a nice long strong neck, and then up comes an explosion of beauty.  Soft petals, delicate allure, seductiveness. 

Times have been hard. Things haven't necessarily been easy for me. I'm sure everyone has faced tough moments where stamina and resilience have been put to the test. I'm not disregarding such a reality, but my life, to me (who is the one and only owner) has been in the darkness, in the void, in the sensation of meaninglessness and confusion. 
I now find myself an orchid.
There might not be much elegance at first sight, but it's my feeling of within. 

I withhold a little secret, a bubble of light, an oyster's pearl.  
It is inside me, yet it surrounds me.
It becomes my halo. 
I hold a little spark from the sun;
It chipped away from the giant ball of fire as I inhaled,
I swallowed it,
for it belonged to me.
This shining seed grows inside, 
as I kiss and twirl and and caress and hold
you.
Only you. 
I nurture my sun seed, yes.
I water it, yes.
Is this love? Is this what lovers feel?
Did women and men of the cave catch sparks of sun?
Do women and men catch flickers of fire?
I'm in love. 

I now find myself an orchid.  Singular. fed by light, water and love.