Halfway up a wall
in old Geneva
a tiny blue flower
grows in a crevice.
Dark and cool,
it is the perfect cave
for a hermit to practice
an individual faith.
At ease with its beauty,
The flower grows:
Sprouting without instruction,
blooming without guilt.
Birth, death and resurrection
Naturally accomplished
without need of salvation.
Paul Walker (3/24/2010 12: 42: 00 PM) | Delete this message Thank you both for taking time to leave a comment. John: I agree with you, it's not that simple. I think I failed to get across the meaning I was striving for. I was thinking of Calvin's idea of predestination - the plant actually is predestined to grow and die without need for salvation. However, as conscious humans wrestling with a knowledge of life and death, we are drawn to churches/temples etc., in a bid to fathom it all out. I suppose the note of 'jealousy' of the flower's condition slipped through the net. Best wishes, Paul.
in its own way i love the tragic irony of this poem. but it is not that simple. john
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Glad to see you are still writing great poetry Paul