Flowers of compassion are unfolding in my chest.
They're blossoming, blooming, beautiful in their simplicity.
And each of you, can reach inside me and pick a flower.
It is grown with love and tenderness, eternally fragrant.
I weep for you, who have not met your spiritual teachers,
Who do not understand the world in which you exist.
These flowers I grow and keep are for you, you anon.
They grow from my compassion of the idea that you may learn,
One day, of the truths of reality, and attachment, anger, delusions.
I know so little, and yet the world around me is changed.
The water. The air. Perception, all of it. That you would perceive
What I perceive. I would have you see it. Flowers of compassion.
I want to embrace you, friend anon. You, the world, shed light.
For you, who do not understand what I am saying,
I desire to become enlightened and follow the Buddhist path.
And then the pink flowers of compassion can grow in you too.
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