Garden Samsara

Morning is tangled in a gossamer
of fog and light.
Lachrymose beads prowl the edges
of the Peruvian lily,
mirroring a womb of ascending green;

Samsara reaches
from the aqueous roots,
and fills my eyes
with nebula.

Like fronds springing from
fallow soil
to reveal the sun's corona,
I too point skyward,
but cannot see beyond my own crooked fingers.

Copyright 2005 by Joshua Pastor