chosen

this life, a nameless flower that I offer- as a prayer moment by moment- to you, did I choose this, or was I chosen?
***
a lonely colorless rose blooms in the middle of the night, in my heart that bleeds by the very presence of an unseen rose. the blood drops that have become seals of your signature over my being, are they yours or mine?
***
the hands that guide me when I’m asleep, dreaming or awake, are they yours or mine? the still gaze that watches everything, perhaps with a smile, through my eyes is it yours, my lord, or mine?

the days and nights that I spend with stars or not, with moon or not, every moment that I live carrying this immense longing, a colorless bird singing a primordial song in my being every moment, and this moment itself an immense ocean of an imminent death, are they yours or mine, my lord

am drowned, am negated, am obliterated for a moment, for only a moment: am holding a lonely colorless rose that has bloomed in the middle of the night in my heart that bleeds by the very presence of an unseen rose. this, my life, whatever counts in it, whatever becomes a memory, whatever sustains for a little longer by becoming a memory, this, my life, my lord has become a shade of someone else I feel but cannot see, this, my life my lord, has become a pool, an evening sky and a breeze that comes from elsewhere.
***
this life, a nameless flower that I offer as a prayer moment by moment to you did I choose this, or was I chosen?