Flowers break open like little hands with gifts of blue and gold, holding them up for the sun to glance, not thinking the act too bold... Once a seed, it began in the dirt and the dark -- and fought to rise, breaking through when to move was deterred, a glimpse of sun for its prize. Soaking in rays, and climbing higher, it followed its will to grow; and raised its head it verdant desire, nor wanting to look below. Within it knew it could still be more -- a child of the Shining Sun -- and looked down deep, to its meager core, for a way to get it done. It found that nature had hid inside the means to it all along: asking only the seed to provide the will to want to belong To a world of beauty, fill with light, where the act of seeing is joy; and all eyes are endowed with sight -- if the owner makes that choice. Any wonder, then, that such a world honors beauty by the same? The highest worship, the choicest pearl: That a work of God's should earn the name.