I hope you see the sunflowers and cry. Low september sun sideways shining, drying, ripping you off the luscious center of the flower. Forever falling franticly in fear of fall. Grasping at nothingness, the empty air and regretting the separation. The letting go of love. Longing and longing but it’s been too long. You’ll smoulder up on the pavement wailing of thirst in your city of sidewalks. Staying in your eternal season of cement. 

I sway in the breeze and fall to rest in soil soaked by fertile sobs. Closing my watery eyes in this years cave, buried, bleeding yet brave. Collecting warmth in winters womb, only to boldly sprout in spring and rise a bird of sunflower pedal wings. Firing through the sweet summer wind. Oh, and when you crawl, still in your fall, wailing of thirst and deprivation upon the hard city floor, shattering as you drag yourself by a garden store. I hope you remember and it hurts even more. I hope you see the sunflowers and cry to your core.

Sunflowers bloom this year too, and… I no longer wish you this city of blue. In a corner of my heart you lay, and from there I pray: hope you still meditate, photograph and dedicate, prioritize and analyze your values with your wisest eyes. Just one advice. Sure, be in your essence, but please, give her your presence. It’s alright if your mind strays and land on the sunflowers some days. Every autumn I’ll put them in a vase, thinking back to mornings at my place:

«May you be happy,» we’d say. Do you still think metta is harder than the headless way? It took me some time to get to this day, but I hope you’re okay. I’m just a bit dreamy, and yes, happy too. It actually feels nice to still love you, like the pedals soak the sun rays, yet not afraid to fall. The earth rebirths I do recall. This vibrant Van Gogh painting on my living room wall – it’ll remind me of you for years, but I hope you too now, see the sunflowers through smiling tears.

– Leandra

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