A Lotus

I am something beautiful.

Perhaps the single lotus swallowed in

The ripples of a river of moss.

Sometimes I am a blade of grass

Sweating drops of morning dew

Swaying with the millions of others who

Do the same as I.

I am something terrifying.

Not only the mysterious moon

Dark and filled with gloom,

Shrinking as you watch me

Disappear into the light;

But I am also

The first spoken words

Of unrequited love, slipping

Past our virgin lips.

Pink, soft, pale

Innocent, but trembling with fear.

Hello! I am here.

A statue lacking of fear.

However, this is not I

I stand tall and light but

I am nothing more than

The petal of the flower,

The breath of the night.

I am nothing more than

The million blades of grass

Of where we first sat,

Where I discovered how fast the meaning of life

Can change with the direction of the wind,

With the seasons that shift from

Summer to winter, winter to fall;

As you looked at me and said

You are the lotus, not the night.

You made me into, not a statue of shadows,

That mix black and white,

But the lotus I carry in my hair

And the moon I look for in the light.

You gave me, me; the purpose of my life.