Like flowers we bloom from a single bud, each of us different and unique. Each of us with a different story to tell.
A flower could take a day to bloom. Another could take a year.
Some flowers bloom all year round, others wilt and bloom again sometime later. They are still flowers.
Some flowers grow from vines, from stems, from seedlings, from cracks on the sidewalk. They are still flowers.
Some flowers are blue. Some are red. Some yellow. Some pink. Orange. Violet. Teal, grey, white, black. Some have multiple colours. They are still flowers.
Some flowers flourish on their own - thriving without the interference of fertiliser or weed killer or pesticides. Some need all the world’s strength to even bloom. They are still flowers.
Some flowers are small, some are large. Some change over time, blowing up to the size of a ball from what used to be a mere penny. Some never grow beyond the initial stage. They are still flowers.
Some flowers are edible. Some have a vibrant taste that melts in the mouth and turns the stomach into pure gold. Others are full of vile and cruel flavour, able to knock any grown creature off of its feet at the bare taste. They are still flowers.
Some flowers have silky petals, ever so fragile to the touch. They tremble under the wind, sway in the gentlest breeze, collapse under the soft rains. Others are strong, able to withstand any gale or gust, able to hold an ocean of water, able to survive under the harshest conditions. They are still flowers.
Some flowers are kept and groomed, always looking pristine. They are protected in vases or windowsills or greenhouses, away from any possible threat or harm. Others are constantly exposed to the extreme elements, left to fend for themselves. With no shelter or grooming or protection, they are vulnerable to anything that comes near. They have no support, nowhere to go, nowhere to feel safe or comfortable. They are still flowers.
Like flowers we bloom from a single bud, each of us different and unique. Each of us with a different background, a different life, a different story to tell.
Whatever we were or what we become, we are still flowers.
