Dangling Flowers

 Dangling flowers over the roof top,
  singing the song of my grandfather,
  time is meant to end, he died,
  and said," What ends
  are your concepts, us,
  trapped in time,
  can never end."

Dancing leaves against the window,
 explaining the truth of time,
 it is in silence, where we become
 what the leaves are seeking,
 the living portrait of love.

As we think, we believe we are in motion,
 as we act, we believe we have  intention,
 as we believe, we are trapped in lies.

What if what we think is motion, doesn't move,
 what if what we think is static, does move,
 are we able to distinguish
 reality from perception,
 truth from concepts,
 love from egoism?

What if what we think is intention,
 has been planned,
 in this complex world, 
 daring imagination of the universe,
 what could exist 
 without the perfect 
 planning of nature?