The wildflower represents the innocent, the growth in the mystery, a delicate happening of all that is. To kill the wildflower is to become the unspontaneous, the programmed, the formed. To kill the wildflower is to kill the inner child.

In the beginning there was a wildflower
Day after day it would bask in the sunlight
It would dance in the wind
It would cry in the rain

One night, under the pale moon
The wildflower was plucked from the earth
It was placed on a throne
Where all could lay their eyes

The wildflower was revered for its colors
The wildflower marveled at its own creation
A crown of ethereal hues refracted light for all those who gazed upon it

Though the wildflower no longer remained wild
It no longer basked in the sun
It no longer danced in the wind
It no longer cried in the rain

As it sat preserved, under the watchful eye of admirers
Its colors began to fade
Its crown began to wither
Its beauty began to wane

The flower died not as it was born
The flower died in a cage