We're all golden sunflowers inside.

We're not our skin of grime, we're not our dread bleak dusty imageless locomotive, we're all beautiful golden sunflowers inside, we're blessed
by our own seed & hairy naked
accomplishment-bodies growing into mad black formal sunflowers in the sunset, spied on by our eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening sitdown vision.

The Sunflowers

Come with me
into the field of sunflowers.
Their faces are burnished disks, their dry spines

creak like ship masts,
their green leaves,
so heavy and many,
fill all day with the sticky

sugars of the sun.
Come with me
to visit the sunflowers,
they are shy

but want to be friends;
they have wonderful stories
of when they were young — the important weather,

the wandering crows.
Don't be afraid
to ask them questions!
Their bright faces,

which follows the sun,
will listen, and all
those rows of seeds — each one a new life! — hope for a deeper acquaintance;
each of them, though it stands
in a crowd of many,
like a separate universe,

is lonely, the long work
of turning their lives
into a celebration
is not easy. Come

and let us talk with those modest faces,
the simple garments of leaves,
the coarse roots in the earth
so uprightly burning.

the sunflowers themselves far more wonderful than any words about them.

The sunflower is mine, in a way.

Ah Sun-flower! weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the Sun:
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the traveller's journey is done.

Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow:
Arise from their graves and aspire,
Where my Sun-flower wishes to go.

The small flower is as total as the sun.

The tantra masters are simply wild flowers, they have everything in them.

Gracious as sunshine, sweet as dew Shut in a lily's golden core.

Translation: I paint sunny flowers because I love people; I create for the enjoyment and happiness of people, so that all nations love each other, so that they live like flowers all around the world.

The road to freedom is bordered with sunflowers.

"when you talk of your journey and of what you have heard and seen, you inwardly desire your own glory in all you do and say."
"All"

He is in me, and I in Him! Mine is the crystal radiance That filleth æther to the brim Wherein all stars and suns may dance. I am the beautiful and glad, Rejoicing in the golden day.

Do you see it?
Do you see that sunflower, raising its head
Glaring at the sun?
Its head almost eclipses the sun
Yet even when there is no sun
Its head still glows.