The Sunflower

Sunflower dazzles in rays of summer

Like mind in its enlightenment state,

At rest in its innate effulgence.

Erect, uncouth,

Its nature embodies the ineffable glory of

What is.

Who makes the sunflower?

It makes itself,

Itself its own unfolding essence,

Its flowering simple, yet utterly profound,

Time-bound yet timeless.

Explain to me the sunflower,

The mystery of what it is.

No words suffice to state its glory,

No bliss penetrates its innate intelligence.

Complex, yet simple.

Simple, yet complex.

Its essence is transdual,

Immaculate, perfect,

Just as you are, right now, reading this.

You are the sunflower.

The sunflower is you,

To whom I offer this kiss.