How Many Flowers

A thing so indescribable is caught

Beyond the fishing net we know as mind,

A look, a touch, a light within the eyes

Of one familiar or in passing strange.

We see outside ourselves but look within.

Music is a vocabulary of soul,

All dance is spirit reveling in joy

And poetry the distillation of love.

We have travelled far from where our quest began

But farther still the goal we cannot see.

How many flowers we have yet to grow.