She rose towards the light. The tendrils of her petals sought the warmth that only the sun could give. Her intricate design a testimony to the deep understanding of the unknown. In flowers, I constantly see the magnificence of rebirth. Passing and being born again and again, time after time in every season. Each particle of them woven of fine art, my lens seeking the very essence of their existence. Studying their patterns, I think of my own, flowers becoming mirrors for my steady growth. The colors of dahlias mimic the sunrise, sunset, dusk, and the midnight sky. Their hollow yet sturdy stems hold their woven heads up even when they feel like falling. In death and rebirth, there is something infinite in the continuing cycle of it all.

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