Sorrow and Search

        A Small Flower

Only that which is growing on stone

knows how hard it is to stay alive.

Only that which grows under stone

knows how hard it is to rise.

All my life,

I have struggled and strived

against the stones,

top-heavy and iron-like!

No matter how shallow are my roots,

and how short is the resource;

how small are my leaves,

how thin, my stems.

Still I struggle and strive,

bud and bloom.

Sway blithely

with the breeze.

Smile brightly

toward the sky.