Do you remember when we walked the sandstone road as two,
The quite peculiar question that I turned and asked of you?

Of all the flowers in the world, the one you most did love,
From the vibrant valley down below to the mountains up above.

A long silence fell, your brow furrowed in thought.
A silence so long, as we walked on, I thought you had forgot.

Your answer unexpected, and I couldn't help but smile.
Another silence reigns as we walk a few more miles.

You break the silence once again, saying flowers wilt,
Turning ugly as they cling to networks they have built.

I nod, another silence, as I wait to hear you out.
I withhold my choice, the same, to know what you're about.

You say that this one stands outside the wilting, dying norm.
A flower that aspires to be carried by the storm.

I respond, a match made in the heavens up above.
The lilies of the river are the flowers I too love.

Silent, we take stock of the lives of which we boast,
Though we walk a little closer on this unfamiliar coast.

The lilies of the river float along without a care,
Weathering each storm, not a bit worse for wear.

Instead of multiplying as they wither and grow old,
The lilies prepare the future young, before their journey bold.

They gather close among the deltas, as their time they bide,
Huddling close together, eagerly awaiting the tide.

Despite the flowers, rooted, wilting, just around the bend,
They spread their wings, ready to be carried by the wind.

Embarking on a grand adventure, swept out to the sea,
To roam the world, to ride the waves, bold and wild and free.

You and I, we understand this life among the waves.
You too know this feeling, this freedom my heart craves.

So slowly we'll grow closer, you'll extend your hand to me.
You and I will ride along, two lilies on the sea.


Penned by my hand on the 23rd of Glacian, in the year 724 AF.