All Life is a Mirror

It is spring and I am contemplating the simplicity of nature; it's endurance and purity. Each year we too can use this energy to our advantage, or give into the madness of the machine; running in fear or without direction through the field, like the March Hares.

All life is a mirror. I can choose through remembering my soul to direct the purity and filter the juicy sap to my soul. This poem from Rainer Maria Rilk'e "Sonnets to Orpheus" describes it perfectly...

           
Flower muscle, that opens the anemone's meadow morning bit by bit,
          until into her lap the polyphonic light of the loud skies pours down,
         muscle of infinite reception, tensed in the still star of the blossom,
        sometimes so overmanned with abundance, that the sunset's beckoning to rest,
        Is scarcely able to give back to you, the wide sprung petal edges,
        You resolve and strength of, HOW MANY WORLDS!
 We with our violence are longer lasting. 
But when, in which one of all lives,
 are we at last open and receivers?

C.O.