The heart is like a flower

It opens slowly in spring

It flashes brightly in summer

Can it let itself fade in fall?

Can it consent to die in winter;

Only to then be picked up and nestled close into the book of scripture?

Can the flower’s death be reflected on?

Can its preserved dryness still be adorned?

Some wish to be an eternal flower,

But only One can make this claim.

He draws life not from the earth.

His stem rather soars up from an altar.

Candles glisten at his side.

Golden rays bud and blossom before adoring eyes.

He has made himself a flower before us, lifted up, the light before us a little longer is not shaken by darkness.

His strength is drawn not from the sun, but rather from a Father.

In this eternal flower, many more flowers shall be made.

So that He may remain on earth forever, many sons of light blossom in the fray.

They live for a short while, till winter meets them on.

Then, they will rest in the book, having been picked from the earth, in this death they are kept and adorned.

Not now what they once were,

They too draw life from the altar, sharing in their final reward.