I am the tuning fork, a shimmering frisson of vibration calling the heart to harmony
I am also the rock, though, throwing ripples concentrically across once calmed waters
Peace and chaos vie for my soul, my meditation song pulled from the place of light
Spilling haphardly across the courtyard where I tend tightly ordered rows of flowers
Regimental form forced on blood red roses contrary to their petals’ better nature,
Never certain which will win the day, tranquility or turmoil, I toil with hope and a smidgen of fear.