Ommatidia

To the bud, blossoming is a catastrophe. But chaos is just another word for Becoming. Nothing you cling to is who you really are. The seed dies in a sprout. The stem holds up her tiny fist, bursting into petals of ineffable fragrance. Pollen, nectar, honey, fruit. Use your ommatidia. You have thousands of eyes. Soften your perception, the way a bee sees. And if you cannot learn this from the body of Jesus, learn it from the breath of Spring.