Shifting the color of my body,
I concentrate on achieving
perfect unison
with the surrounding scenery.
My complexion alters to a vibrant yellow to blend with the daffodils.
The rest of my body intensifies –it becomes a rich green– as burly as the stems.
It is impossible to distinguish between myself and the daffodils.
I am content,
until
the Eastern Wind blows with all his might –as if to extract every being that is
R
O
O
T
E
D eep within the earth.
At first, I manage to keep up with the sudden shifts
Yellow, green, blue –my face changes– as it sees fit.
I fixate all my energy on ensuring unification with my surrounding,
(forgetting that unlike the daffodils, I am not rooted)
And as the wind’s wafts strengthen
I am elevated and separated from the garden.
Fear runs through my veins.
Insecurity encumbers me.
I am no longer one with the fair paradise.
How will survival play its part?
Then,
I see the sun.
It shines on me too –even when it has forsaken the golden daffodils.
