Rhododendron Flowers

My heart falls into darkness amongst the sleeping rhododendron flowers spread upon the forest floor. Here the fairies fly freely and delight in joy at the gifts of the new moon.  Tears spinning beyond repair until breath itself is found to be nothing more than a glimmer of moonlight.  The wind beckons to find a home along the river edge as sparkles of hope dash downstream into forevermore. 

The path is windy and uphill and slippery with mud and crushed dandelions.

How can something so beautiful and magnificent be the bearer of such diminishing returns of truth and disparity? 

I asked for this.  I paid the piper.  I sit challenged again and again and yet my unwavering response is always the same.  No, I will not bend to the servitude of imbalance, nor will I delight in the overwhelm of decision or the grief of remembrance.  

Is there another such that I can understand and have mirrored back to me why this way is not documented to be read to children as rhymes or tales of long forgotten joys. Can we not return to this place of peace and love for even a glimmer of a millisecond before the waves of ineptitude come crashing back down again and again. 

Perhaps it is now more than ever that we must decide - yes this is a place of love. This I know to be true.  I dreamt of this place and here it exists, revealed long withstanding to improve upon the forever place of timelessness and forlorn beauty. 

  

May I lay me down to rest upon the rhododendron flowers which fall nearly as soon as they flourish to understand that I too, like a fading flower, am building up and decaying within a single day.  My energy ebbs and flows with the elevation of knowing that I am so much more than I may ever conceive of.