A Granny Smith apple
Accepts
With gratitude
The fresh breeze
Of change.

A gift from
The mighty wind,
Full of promises
To a new way of being.

She smiles,
And gracefully falls,
On welcoming palms
Of Gaia.

Surrender to her apple shape,
Destiny unfolds,
In her willingness
To offer the juice
The essence inside.

She whispers her price,
To thirty seekers,
To their open lips,
She reveals the secret
The mystery beneath her skin.

Bite after bite,
Her shape shrinks
Till no longer eyes could detect
Her beginning,
When the ” no apple” end
Appears.

Accepting the unshakable faith
She falls in silence
Return to her unshaped place,
Unformed life,
To mother Earth, to Gaia.

And wait,
To reborn again,
Perhaps choose a new taste,
Sweet, sour,
What could be the next?
A new warrior,
In world of Granny Smith apples.

Her existence splits
In two different places,
One, in the empty space
In the place
Of her short apple life,
The other,
In the transparent space
Of truth
In the no place.

The green apple’s seeds
Enlightened
With a soft green of love,
With effortless sweetness of her taste,
With her commitment to follow her path.

The Granny Smith apple,
On the same tree,
Came to self realisation,
She is “no apple”
Eaten or not,
She is just a vessel.

Her destiny is Love,
The Sweet fluid
of delight Inside.

Every day,
She smiles
Over the abundant tree,
And embraces
Everything and nothing,
With the same faith.

© Serena Devi, May 2010, Canada, Toronto

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