Yes, it makes sense: Evil
always has its roots, so it must
by extension, have its
blossoms too—and Goodness
they say, in time, bears fruit,
ensuring its perpetuation
with its own sweet reward.
But what about
the potential efflorescence
of simply not caring, one
way or the other? How come
no one seems to wonder
how fresh-faced and mysterious
could be those alternate
shapes that would hang
on the stems of no preference,
no inclination, no opinion?
Imagine for a moment those
First Prize-winning specimens:
their angles razor-sharp—
from years of assiduously
doing no harm to anyone—
perfectly contrasted
with the voluptuous contours
of never having lifted one
finger in assistance.
After all, it's so common
to be greedy and dishonest;
so garden to be a champion
of positivity in all circumstances.
How exquisite a life might look
in contrast, how achingly rare
and masterfully complex
to cultivate within in its vast
arable landscape
the Flowers of Nonchalance.
