Alliums and Idioms

For now at least, we’ll use pseudonyms

And roam free.

We’ll pick petunias, and frolic through fields.

Personify that little voice in our heads and rationalize its whispers.

Muse about the primroses, and tulips, and buttercups, and jasmin,

And all manner of colorful ideas.

This eternal earth.

When we’ll all be gone and dead the flowers will be here

Swaying. steadfast and rooted,

spreading their seed on the whispers of the wind.

Digging deep into the soil, deeper than we ever could

We’ll speak in tongues,

And chant arbitrary things,

Because surely the flowers don't care how logical our colloquies are.