Gather ye rosebuds while ye may

Too often regarded merely as statements of beauty and love; flowers, when better considered, will bloom stories about time: its steadfastness, transience and the possibilities encapsulated in either qualities. Like flowers, we begin our lives with untainted enthusiasm, instinctively knowing who we are and what to do with what we know, eager to explore spoken and unspoken possibilities. Experience of lesser things slows this energy down, and raises people who are too careful. We become too careful to love and be loved, give a good hug, lend a compassionate ear, fall and rise as many times as our dreams require, and marvel at the opportunity of life. So we pause and hide who we are under the impression that time will remain loyal to our doubts and fears. Yet it keeps moving and nudging us to marvel at the budding and blossoming of who we are - oftentimes through other people. It asks us to be courageous: allow for our tangible and intangible ideas to be scattered in unimagined places, parade the brilliance in our differences, then like all fragile, beautiful living things - retreat and rest with a setting sun. - Kwanele Kunene