Buds of an Inflorescence
They were there
A baby
Her teenager mom
And an older woman
As if they belong to an inflorescence
Three leaves on a palm tree
One just sprouting
One up there
And another
On her way out
The connection
Subtle
Tender
Intimate
Without the need for names
Identity and language
They converge
Like a stream
Originating, flowing and merging with the ocean.
Like the string of pearls
In a necklace
A continuity of
Infinity.
A baton being passed
A baton of sustaining the breath
The growth and degeneration
The dreams, fragility
And determination
Of being a human
I wonder
What the baby
With closed eyes
Sensing the interface
Of blooming and withering
Like the other buds of the inflorescence.
((*.*))
November 11, 2005
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