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The Chrysanthemum
March 12, 2019
Birthed from a chrysanthemum,
The soul arise—
Shedding my Ren for Ka,
Appetite for reason,
Upon my being!
I do declare; I am but a commonwealth
Made avatar of pneuma.
Truly scavenged as all men,
Our eyes hungry for self.
Only living if inebriating,
Towered atop worlds,
As a deity ‘till chrysanthemum’s kiss.
Stolen divinity, lost title Godhead;
Granted by elixir’s touch,
One last revel narcotized
‘Fore consumed in named Anubis.
© Beth S., Marblehead, MA
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The chrysanthemum is a symbol of both life and death. What happens between the blooming and the wiliting of this flower is representative of what happens during the lifespan of us humans. We common people feel as gods do, divine once influenced by heavenly nectar. It is not until this nectar fades away alongside our lifeforce that we begin to understand we too must experience an end, just as the chrysanthemum.