The Scent Of Hyacinth

Right now I look like a human being. But I am no more human, or should I say only human, or always and forever human because someday I could be the stuff that makes up these sunflowers, or this sky, or any aspect of this garden. We all live and breathe together. Be still a moment, here, with me, in this magical space. You inhaled the scent of hyacinth and lavender, fresh grass and the happy earth, growing eager roots, busy with earth worms bringing air where it’s needed in the dark. The garden is part of you. And you and I, we are made of the stars you are wishing upon this very night! Why does it surprise you, then, when I tell you I want to be like the milky way, only tiny, the size of a flower in a garden like this. And you would discover me and paint me along with all my brothers and sisters.
It could happen, you know.
And someday, a woman with gray hair would sit on the side of her bed in the dead of winter and write a poem about us. She would swear she could smell the garden and feel the soft prickle of the sunflower stem.

She would look at the the sky and the scent of hyacinth would make her cry. She is really human, only human, especially tonight, with a tiny- twinkling-spiraling galaxy in the petal of one eye.

Image may contain: plant, flower and outdoor
Gustav Klimt, Country Garden With Sunflowers

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