Roses, irises, buttercups.
Pinecones on the forest floor.
And I love the wonder of the universe.
Pascal once said, “The Heart has its reasons which Reason knows nothing of.”
But these are reasonable petals, sensible in divinity, and reasonable seeds and leaves, rational in their golden expressions of frenzied joy.
I think that sometimes the universe just makes sense, comes together, amors its own fati and mine triangulated together because it couldn’t be any other way when roses share the shape of my soul.
Because after all, what are we if not patterns, repetitions of growings, histories that are made from the widening of memory and lengthening of experience, infinite expansions of love and longing and regret, of furious melancholy and ferocious happiness, the constant motion of collecting and gathering and storing the things that spiral us into selfness?
What are we if not the sum of our prior moments, the just past and the further past, adding up until we have the nowness of our whens, the largeness of our presents, the ineffable mysterious space of our futures spread before us, the natural ordering of the accumulations of time, objects, people, and memory, and the absorption of the universe into ourselves and ourselves into the universe over and over, spiralling into each other in endless mathematical poetry from the sequences of petals to the swirl of galaxies?
We are all of these: we are the leaves and the branches and the sunflower seeds, we are the roses and the irises and the buttercups, we are the pinecones on the forest floor, we are the stars and we are galaxies, we are the wonder and we are the expanding universe, we are infinite collections of music, we are endless albums of photographs, we are the made and the makers, the songs and the singers, the photographs and the photographers, we are the accumulations of heartbeats and breaths, and it makes sense that we spiral into ourselves, into each other, patterning ourselves after galaxies, roses, trees and pinecones, buttercups and seeds and branches because it couldn’t ever be any other way, because I couldn’t be who I am, or who I was, or who I will be, without every single one of you.