Now I know why
the sunflower yearns for the morning dawn,
or why spring waits for the last snowflake.
I also know why the caterpillar hangs on to the branches of a rose stem.
The sunflower draws life from the sun. It is its life. It is its being. Its own
essence.
It lives through the warm caresses of the morning...the bright splendor of the
day.
And the sun, too, comes our after its long, deep slumber
from the cold, dreary tremors of the lonely night.
Spring rests until its time comes
to melt the melancholy mellow of a winter storm,
to give birth to a new day and season.
The caterpillar clings, holds on to dear life, alone, yes, even abandoned,
who knows best the agonies of loneliness? Who but the caterpillar,
reviled by the hummingbee, tormented by the sparrows,
only to become a butterfly.
The sunflower will always be fresh in the morning.
Spring will always give life to the shivering earth.
The caterpillar will someday be adored, beloved, cherished.
Now love, you have become like the sunflower---with your happy eyes and cheerful
lips.
You have become like the spring---you are the essence of every morning.
And you, in your long wait, have become the butterfly---
nature's gift of beauty, jewel of the gardens,
your free soul hovering over the flowerbeds.
Angels have given you wings so that you may fly
and find your way to me.
You are the beauty my eyes seek,
you are the peace my soul needs,
and you are my life's long awaited joy,
my greatest happiness...
and you are happy, because
I am back in your arms.
18 march 2002
3:52 pm
Allan Paolo Barazon
