The Bloom

There's a sinuous interlacing of subterranean elements

 work together to support us whether or not we're intelligent. 

When they break through to the light of day 

they may provide enough shade to sit beneath 

and wonder about some long afternoon in the distant future. 

Someone decides once again they were and always have been 

the focus of the universe, to mirror the central feature, 

Or at the very least the center of the universal phenomenon 

which existence appears to be fashioned after.  

At this time.  Reflected through them alone. 

Just like everyone else today as well as in the long tomorrow. 

The way in which these matters become important to us 

depends on our own part in the unfolding manifestation. 

What they call around here the Bloom.
The development of interchanging roles from roots 

to branches and earth to sky remains as open a puzzle 

as it ever was. The trouble with secrets in the light of day

seems to be that invariably they'll be mistaken for trinkets 

by many, only to be taken for adorning their display cases. 

That is alright, for there remains enough of it to go around.

No one who escapes with a morsel of truth 

may be called a thief  for the Blooming continues, 

this remains the ever relied upon unwritten rule. 

It's permutational shapes appear in unexpected ways. 

Sometimes expressed between sunrises and sunsets,  

And other times during our dreams in between days.