By Evan Pausic
speak the language of flowers
remember when your mother’s hand
touched your sickly forehead
the world watches
and is blind
I can see the top
a snow capped mountain
we only know the outlines
of what we see
I see the flower
in fire on the terrace
I see the flower
shining in your eyes
I see the flower
in the mind’s blackness
I cannot say what it is
it is in bloom
CCS GLOBAL EDUCATION 
Thank you Evan; keep looking deeply!
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What a beautiful poem Evan! I feel like I am there seeing the very flower in bloom along the trail with you.
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Lovely, Thanks for sharing!
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Love you so much Evan and your experiences in full bloom! Cannot wait to hear your stories!
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