This origin of this tale has gone astray,
Perhaps it happened here, perhaps far away.
But does it matter where it came from,
If it’s a story that should be told to everyone?
It began in the midst of a barren field;
Not even one little plant would it yield.
Then late one August, a single sprout
From the rocky dirt shyly peeked out.
Word spread in the town nearby, you know,
Of a bud where nothing fruitful would grow.
At first they dismissed the little sprout;
Its plans to blossom would never pan out.
But this sprout never let their words enter his heart;
In spite of where his roots were, he’d set himself apart.
It was just something he felt he had to do,
And so the town watched in awe as he grew and grew.
Each day he’d rise up a little bit more
Towards the blossoming he’d been waiting for.
The town fell in love with this miraculous plant,
And gave him water and love for encouragement.
Though stormy times threatened to tear him apart,
He kept faith in his mission deep in his heart,
And continued to stretch with all of his might…
Until it happened one amazing night.
Struck by the light of a full moon,
The grown-up plant suddenly burst into bloom.
His flower’s petals were strikingly white,
And sparkled like crystals in the moonlight.
Though the town had known the plant for quite a while,
The sight left them stunned, made them gasp and smile.
Thrilled to give them best of joy, the plant would sway
And let moonbeams dance off him in dazzling array.
All his radiant movements emitted major love,
For he felt to send it out was his mission from above.
People travelled from everywhere to come and see
The mystical moonflower, beautiful and carefree.
They simply loved the way he made them feel,
His presence gave them faith in what had seemed unreal.
The chaos swarming ‘round the town never could cease,
Yet moonflower remained a sweet source of peace.
Lurking deep in the town’s shadows, however,
Were those who couldn’t believe in such love, now or ever.
They despised the moonflower; he was too good to be true,
And cutting him down was the right thing to do.
They began planting rumors in the townsfolk’s minds
Of how the flower was one of the weirdest kind.
Why did he close up, shield himself from the sun,
And only shine in full glory when the day was done?
The moonflower knew the town had started to think him strange,
But it wasn’t in his heart to defy his beliefs and change.
He continued to sway and shimmer on every moonlit night,
And the townsfolk still found him a source of delight.
When those shrouded in shadow saw their efforts were for naught,
For the town enjoyed moonflower no matter how ‘weird’ he got,
They knew it’d take more for him to be ‘rightly’ despised,
And resorted to spreading salacious lies.
The townsfolk were horrified by what they heard;
Though there was no proof, they believed every word.
And those in the shadows snickered with delight
As they derided and scorned the flower of the night.
They tore his petals, stem, leaves, any piece of him they could;
Picking apart this 'twisted' flower felt oh, so good.
They wouldn’t let him come back and shimmer like before;
When he began to heal, they simply tore at him some more.
When no one was looking, moonflower cried tears of dew,
Wondering how people could believe things so untrue.
How could they think he was such a monster?
He only danced with love so that they’d have bliss and laughter…
The little ones sensed that the pretty moonflower was good,
His sweet, youthful spirit had just been misunderstood.
But the parents kept their ‘ignorant’ children far away,
And refused to let them join the ‘beast’ in play.
Ripping at the moonflower soon became an old game,
Though every once in a while again him they’d maim.
It occurred over and over, but the townsfolk did not care;
They barely even acknowledged that moonflower was there.
Until he wasn’t.
It happened during one afternoon
On what seemed like an ordinary day in June.
A group went to tease moonflower more for being weird
And was stunned to find that he had disappeared.
None of the townsfolk could believe he was gone.
How was it possible after he’d been around for so long?
Yet the truth slowly started to sink in
That they’d never see the moonflower dance again.
Scenes returned to the townsfolk’s memory
Of watching the flower’s moonlit revelry.
They realized, speechless, that they’d torn apart
A gorgeous flower with only love in his heart.
They wished they could take it back, heal his pain,
But it was too late; he’d left the earthly plane.
Though they knew he could now dance on his beloved moon,
The townsfolk mourned the moonflower, gone too soon.
The youngest children hadn’t heard of this moonflower before,
And asked who it was their parents were crying for.
They listened with wide eyes to their parents’ recollections
And went that night to where moonflower had danced with affection.
They scrutinized his place, once again desolate ground
And gasped at the little treasures they found:
Spread around the field were the moonflower’s seeds,
Glittering diamonds amongst the dirt and dead weeds.
The children felt loving warmth coming from their glow
And knew they had to help moonflower’s seeds grow.
They took them home, planted them, gave them water and sunlight,
So that they, too, could grow up and dance with love on moonlit nights.
Now, though the beloved moonflower’s gone,
The legacy of love he left behind will live on.
And wherever he is, in bliss like he never felt before,
His spirit is watching us and whispering, “I love you more.”
God bless you, Michael.