What is a flower
But beauty in stillness
In pointing at the sun
And receiving its fullness
If it spoke a word
It would make no difference
On the measure of its worth
It remains magnificent
If it were to dance
There would be no change
It would still inspire romance
On its quiet stage
Nothing it could do
Could remove its name
Once a flower by birth
It remains the same
And the stiller that it is
And the more it looks above
What others see in it
Will be overwhelming love
See the beauty of the flower
Does not come from being more
No
Its beauty comes from knowing
Where the source of worth comes from


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