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There is something so beautiful;
there is something so breath-taking;
there is something so amazing;
there is something so special;
there is something so mesmerizing, fascinating,
hypnotic, gorgeous, and true, and a part of you;
there is something so wonderful, brilliant, and incredible,
and nothing more personal and exceptional,
than something, or the name of someone
who means something to you,
drawn and painted on your skin in the form of a tattoo.

I am always amazed when I see someone’s tattoo
and beautiful body-art and it makes me go wow!
The human body is a thing of indescribable beauty anyway-
from birth to death-
but someones beautiful and ingrained designs
that they choose to mark their skin and paint themselves with
to me are beautiful, great, and magical,
and someone’s tattoo, to me, is also an important part of them,
and a noticeable tease of who they are,
what they like, who and what makes their heart beat fast,
and ties them and writes even more so
into the constantly-evolving human story and living myth.

I have seen tattoos and body-art of many forms-
from the beautiful painting of a heart with a keyhole inside it
on someone’s chest, to the gorgeous and phenomenal sight
of butterflies on someone’s back that I cannot get enough of;
I have seen the names of someone’s beloved and soulmate
written up someone’s arm;
I have seen and read the most staggering and wonderful
indellible inscriptions of eternal love;
I have seen song-lyrics, artists,
sacred and meaningful symbols of hope on someone’s body
that look as if they have always been a part of someone;
I have been in-awe by the sight of Angels wings,
the face of a tiger, a spider, a web,
a unique design of someone’s own imagining
that I always look in wonder,
and I always want to ask why and how
they chose the design and where the thought behind it came from.

To me, tattoos and body-art are like poetry.
To me, tattoos and body-art and are a written chapter,
an answer, and a question, that you and anyone
can see, remember, ask, think.
To me, a tattoo and body-art is a symbol
and a celebration of someone being liberated,
connected to something greater,
as well as being free.
To me, art is inspiring and the best thing in the entire world,
and the most sincere, and the most amazing expression,
and there is no better, resonant, long-lasting, and important,
than art painted on your body,
and a beautiful tattoo drawn in ink.

Standing, growing, and swaying in the breeze,
alone but seemingly content in a beautiful green oasis
at the centre of a big city-
a wildflower, a violet and white, beautiful and amazing
perfect product of nature has me transfixed and completely at-ease.

Others walk on by and do not appear to take notice;
I, however, cannot look away if I tried-
I take in a breath, I look again at the beautiful flower before me,
I close my eyes, and I make a make a silent wish.

When I open my eyes again I see a noticeable flash of light
that overwhelms my vision for a few seconds,
and intensifies the colour of everything around me-
when I now look at the incredible wildflower,
and the green grass around it,
every petal, every blade of grass, appeared to be glowing
and vibrating, and the path beneath me looked as if it
and the grass were the same and connected
like the overlapping waves of a tumultuous sea;
but the flower, it was something else,
it looked like something else,
it felt like something else-
it radiated and glowed like a fire,
like it was actually burning and sending out
noticeable distortions around it like a stone being dropped
over and over into a pond,
or like the sparks that flash at the end of a live wire.

I felt like I wanted to reach out and touch it,
to see if it was real, or imaginary, for some reason-
the air had gone cold, the leaves would soon be turning brown
and falling from the trees,
but this flower felt like as if it were not bound
by such metamorphosis in appearance,
nor in the change of the season.

The wildflower just was,
and as each second that I stared at it passed,
it made me think and feel like the way seeing and hearing
the launch, the flash, and the bang of a firework does-
and I must admit to giving out a gasp
when I was struck by an insight and a vision
that felt like a bomb-blast.

When my sight returned to normal;
when the colour around me faded as the world seemed to reset itself
to the way it looked before I arrived and sat down here
where I was, which could have been closer to a week for all I knew,
rather than a day, or even an hour;
when I stood up, and stared down,
I could still see the after-glow of what I had seen,
I could still feel its pull.
When I walked away, in the corner of my eye,
I looked and I saw something that I hadn’t seen before:
growing behind, and in-line with the one I had seen,
and been amazed so much by, I was literally in shock
at the sight of a second unseen wildflower-
why I had not seen it until now I did not know,
but what it meant to me, and the message it was relaying to me,
could not have been more clearer.

Wildflower

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