I cultivate morning glory at home, and the vines creep along
some poles overhead. Every morning they gloriously flower but by
noon with the afternoon sun, the flowers are dead.
I love the morning glory flower
because it dies within a few hours of blooming. That makes them
precious.
You wake up in the morning and when you see them you feel a
sense of happiness. It makes me happy to see flowers so lovely
displaying their beauty.
It reminds me that my love ones
around me will die one day. That make them precious too.
It reminds me that the ones I hate will die, one day, too. That
mitigates the hate.
It reminds me one day that I too
will die, but like the morning glory, another will bloom and that
makes my dying less of a terrible event.
I know I will die one day, but does a flower know that it is
dying, soon? A flower dies. A man dies but a man knows what it is
like to live, to love, to hate, to hunger, to want, to die.