As I yearn to understand reverence,
A soft glow settles upon my skin, warming and kneading,
filtering through my soil, replenishing the innocence of mother.
A sprinkle of water flows, copying the many that have come before,
cascading across my petals and drowning in the morrow.
What fun! I scream, allowing my senses to become fertile,
but, what of this reverence I yearn?
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