Behold the taut bud,
amassed within it,
a serene cloister of petals,
in deep contemplation,
poised in prayer,
as precious substance
subtly streams through
in anointment,
swelling them in fiery concentration,
awaiting the moment –
when the sun pierces their seal
and they are burnt open
on the altar of their thorny spine,
unfurling a choir of petals
whose song is color’s radiance,
whose emanation is incense sublime,
in their bestowal of ecstasy.