Your goal has blossomed into a thousand paths.
Each petal leads back to the pollen where you began.
Slowly, you move in all directions, traveling nowhere.
When anyone asks you to dance,
ever so politely you reply, 'No thank you.
Can't you see, I am already given to whirling?'
This is the etiquette of God's betrothed.
Even if Springtime were to bow at your feet,
you would demure, you would say,
'I only grow wild for the One
who planted the garden.'
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