When I was a flower I knew. The bulb that contained me understood too. Perfect, wholesome and intact I was beneath the earth, there was no such thing as worry, haste or fear, everything in the infinite universe was there to help me grow, a specific amount of soil covered and nurtured me, an efficient cloud passed over me punctual and calculated in its provision of rain, the sun also watched over me. There was no hurry, there were no expectations to meet or mistakes to make, all I had to have was faith, then when the right moment came, I rose, lifting my head from under the ground, I did not compete, it did not matter what colour my blossom or how tall my stem, I did not compare my blooming, my development, or my beauty to other flowers. I flourished, the universe continuing to supply, support and sustain me without me requesting, needing or asking. I thrived, there was never a doubt where I belonged, never for a second a fear of the future, a sorrow from the past. I was attached to nothing and yet I was one with everything.
I saw that I was as indispensible as the moon, as vital as the trees that were wise and mighty, then when the right moment came I faded, I withered as majestically and as gracefully as when I first bloomed, I went back to my soul keeper, the bulb, I was perfectly folded once more, whole and intact all my features, purposes and reasons stored in my little cocoon nothing was lost, safe and sound I lay under the earth until my time comes again the following spring.