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Participles Tripping Transcendence
No petal knows the flower it helps become.
Yet every edge contributes to its net sum.
What petals cannot see, the bloom makes whole.
Each separate curve completing one shared soul.
A boundary gives every petal, grace and form.
Its edges hold through sunlight, rain, and storm.
We cannot grow by leaving limits far behind.
We grow between the lines that shape within the mind.
Perhaps transcendence isn't traveling so far away,
But opening wider to what's within today.
The bud becomes what folded silence knew,
By letting what was hidden freely move through.
So nothing leaves the pattern we pass through.
Bud, petal, bloom keep coming into our view.
Transcendence is to become, not to enclose.
Beyond the petal, yet within the waiting rose.
No petal knows the flower it will help create.
Each keeps its edge, yet joins a larger state.
What petals cannot see, the flower makes one.
The whole emerges as all the parts are spun.
Beauty needs boundaries; edges give each its place.
Petal beside petal slowly shapes the flower's face.
We need not break the borders that limits define,
But meet between and through them, to yours and mine.
Becoming, opening, flowering as we grow,
Participles trip wherever changing currents flow.
No finished noun can truly tell us who we are.
We're verbs still blooming, reaching past the bar.
So nothing truly leaves, and nothing stands alone.
Each petal joins a pattern never fully known.
Transcendence isn't escaping, what we yearn to be—
It's opening just enough to find, what we can't see.
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