Without Witness

Cracked earth—

a memory of water

no one recalls.

The day exhales heat

into a cooling sky.

Nothing asks to grow.

Then—

without witness—

a lotus breaks the silence.

No pond,

no promise,

no reason.

Petals unfold

into the color of dusk,

as if the sky

had taken root.

The desert does not question.

The flower does not explain.

What rises

needs no permission.

What blooms

does not wait

for the world

to agree.