Call Me Daisy

I want to sit in a field of daisies and breathe in the fresh air.

I want to have the luxury of nourishing my curiosity.

Where do daisies come from?

Can I be reborn as one?

Are they one with the wind, or does the wind simply restrict them in the ways that matter?

What does it take to flourish and create such a field?

I want my inner child to answer this for me.

I want to be perplexed again and at peace all at once.

I want time to sit still like the daisies on a warm and uneventful day.

Frozen…

Can I just be? I want to be.

Grounded. Free.

Oh, what serenity.

I’ve got what feels like answers, and yet every new discovery

has me on my toes, begging to see things clearly.

I’m relentless…

Dozens of daisies,

and I stumble across the only thorn in the field.

It’s tiresome…

Oh, how I just want to be.

Can someone just be for me?

I am one with the earth if I choose it.

Please water me. Please grow for me.

Please listen to me. Hear me. I beg of you.

Like the rest — I have not yet blossomed.

Call me Daisy.