Life unfolds in great blossoms of being, petals touching and reaching as buzzing creatures visit to taste our essence, each one taking a bit of our life’s pollen before they journey to the next flower, the next being.
And all the while in lonely places we hope to be touched, to be noticed.
The world through eyes other than our own becomes a different thing. When seen from someplace else, we become alien, different, unrecognizable.
That’s because we see things as we are, not as they happen.
Want to know what your life is like? Ask those who observe it, participate in it yet do not own it.
We are what we do, not what we feel, not what we believe, not what we think.
Tinted by my own sense of self, life as I know it becomes unfamiliar when viewed from a perspective not defined by me.
Would that I might once see the world through the eyes of someone else, see the beauties they see that I miss, see the marvels they ponder that I ignore.
But I cannot refuse human nature. I see things as I am, not as they are, and I must live with the difference.
The flowers of my soul never will appear to me in the same hues others see.
I can only hope the petals are as soft.