Dandelion Dreams

Each time this mind-heart-soul,


into a vast search,

such as a Dandelion,

blows in the wind,


to find lost lover,

a whim,

to recapture …

It is certain I shall not return,


the same —

As her Dandelion-pollen

is set free forever from its stem.

To the blue universe,

a gift,

as my thoughts are,


received by omnipotent,

where everything is known

at the same time a mystery.

And how to find answers,

we don’t,

but become them,

transformed into wild-flowers.

* * *

Revel in its brilliance,

born not mistaken,

though false it will be

without acceptance:

A true-to-self-life.

This magical-performance,

painful as it sometimes may be,

is simple:

“A square-peg-being,

unfit for mundane circle.”

So, no matter trying,

if it’s understood or not,

no point …

The importance:

A weed isn’t considered special,

but a Magnolia!

* * *

Only dying comes from duplication.

Birth into originality is blessed,

gloriously perfect!

So shine —

Even if from time to time,

it feels sad not to blend into the wall.

Author: Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte

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