Have you ever been amazed,
when a gentle wave
from the sea
softly kisses your feet
and breaks
an unfinished day-dream?

By the time
you look down,
it has already receded
back to its ocean;
taking back
the healing tranquility
it had brought
with it.

You can neither
hold it back,
nor can you become
a part of the ocean;
if you wish to be
and to dream
anymore.

All you can do
is to wait
for another wave
to splash you
with the taste
of the sea.

...and then there are these flowers:
flush with fragility and coloring.

What if I could be them...
utterly mortal, yet dazzling?

What if I could bloom
with nothing to prove?

How would it be
to be like them;
perched on the tree
on a shimmering morning
so faultlessly sunny,
with the breeze...
caressing, ladylike...silky?

Can I be them?

What are the credentials
for homecoming?
or is it
a comprehensive lack of them?