Look closely at the cloak of secrecy, what might hide within
the lavender spires. It carries the blueprint of an assault, this we know,
for countless flowers have fused into one, the dovetailing whorls
a labyrinth for seekers.

Covet this wild crown; ignore its waxy, waterproof battlements.
Snub the pricks in your quest, imagine getting closer to the truth.
Armed with strange love, cut through its armour,
everything that impedes change.

Shed of weight, it weeps gently,
the air suffused with fermenting sweetness.
Cut further along its flanks, following its contour, in diagonal cuts
blinding its many eyes, one by one.

Sightless, it yields under a barbecue sun—
realise how the wedges pack furrows of little light warriors,
ready for a counter-charge, on your senses.

Photograph Courtesy: Wikimedia Commons, username: NJR ZA