Transfiguration

Rembrandt’s tulip, floral goddess,
is broken. Some virus
in the bulb. Yet Love,
look, streaks of red
on white like flames.
Imagine whole fields,
seas of overwhelming temporary
brightness that blinds
then sharpens.
This breaking is beauty—
some chord struck far deeper
in the fibers of life—
love drawn and redrawn
transcendent like self-portraits,
the Master across ages sincere.
Can you view yourself this way?

Immersed in light beyond time,
variegated impression of the Divine
calling out to the Divine.

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Partial inspiration: Flora

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