I see in this flower and in the faces of all flowers, condensations of nature’s beauty. I see clearly their powerful concentrated visible identities with no secondary or tertiary meaning or intention.
In the open flower is the face of existence, thisness, the Tao. With no axe to grind and no message to convey, the flower is composed in its entirety of the Gentleness of Being
I believe in the truth of what I see and say with all the fibre and iron will of my entire being.
And as I say it, I feel the absence of the intensity of my feelings as I am describing them, because my utterance, like the rose, is “I AM”, purely and simply, no more no less.
Without being asked, the pink flower contains all answers to more questions than exist in the known and unknown skies.
I can see in its impermanent magnificence the rose is a Library of Alexandria before that devastating fire