「Tell me, gentle flowers, teardrops of the stars, standing in the garden, nodding your heads to the bees as they sing of the dews and the sunbeans, are you aware of the fearfull doom that awaits you?
Dream on, sway and frolic while you may in the gentle breezes of summer.
To-morrow a ruthless hand will close around your throats.
You will be wrenched, torn asunder limb by limb, and borne away from your quiet homes.
The wretch, she may be passing fair.
She may say how lovely you are while her fingers are still moist with ypur blood.
Tell me, will this be kindness?
It may be your fate to be imprisoned in the hair of one whom you know to be heartless or to be thrust into the buttonhole of one who would not dare to look you in the face were you a man.
It may even be your lot to be confined in some narrow vessel with only stagnant water to quench the maddening thirst that warns of ebbing life」
(From the Book of Tea, Flowers,p.92, Charles E. Tuttle Co., Rutland, Vermont-Tokyo, Japan)
We must be very sensitive for the tender loving natural flowers.
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Image Designer: Izumi Mori
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