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The Perfect Blossom

It doesn’t matter what I do

As long as I am with You. 

My heart is in Your hands

Fold it however You like. 


I cannot unlock myself. 

Nor do I want to. Locks wait

For hands that hold the right key. 

They only wait. Hearts are locks.


This is a good waiting. 

Listening on Saturday afternoon

Sunlight stretching through the window

Unfolding against my back.

Just listening, reaching, 

For the still, small voice. 


Katsumoto said: 


The perfect blossom is a rare thing,

You could spend your whole life looking for one, 

And it would not be a wasted life.


It is one thing to find the perfect cherry blossom. 

It is another thing to find the One who crafted it. 

The perfect blossom is the distant echo of perfection. 

A finger pointing. Emphatic. To its source.


I could and I will

Spend the rest of my life

Waiting. 


Beholding what You show me

Even if it’s Your silence. Eyes wide 

And ears wide, heart wide, for You.


The whole earth is full

Of cherry blossoms.

It is a laughing, bellowing spring

Ferocious with its blooming.


You are always speaking. 

Your words falling 

Delicate upon stooping shoulders

Blossoms delicate as snow. 


I want more. 

I will not be satisfied with finding

A perfect cherry blossom.


The perfect blossom is a rare thing. 

Rarer still is the heart that sees 


They are all perfect.


And they are all perfect

Because they come

From You. 


You. 






Matthew 5:8


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