Flowering Order
by Odin Roark

Released we are
by mother in an hour of pain,
by father in an hour of fear,
introducing us to destiny
wedged between their pain and dread.

How revealing to find as one grows up,
one's own connections,
the weaving of new and unfamiliar strands of love,
is a risk of being misread and destroyed
mostly by one's own wounds and fright,
those phantoms of self-loathing
unwilling to be released.

To be born is perhaps
but the setting of a stage,
a performance that must heed
the change of energy’s decision,
the movement,
the shadows,
exposures that subconsciously know
of singularity’s power,
even amidst the layering of multiplicity.

Those of conscious responsibility
refusing to become but a statistic of consensus,
stare into the eyes of reality,
decline a delusional escape,
grasp the opportunity,
and become real.

Such is to live with conscious awareness of becoming,
a state of mind’s flowering available to all,
but accessed by too few.