Are the flowers youve brought to the surface to wake me?
Are they heavenly flowers?
Are they an excess of petals, an oblivious turn to abundance, the ground of the flower itself?

Is the aspect of sweetness compressed into a sea-water breath, as one would bring air to the surface?

Would I feel a flower so similar to aberrations of color descending to roses?

As I would so love to be restored from my likeness to what would parallel instead.

Deepness is a metaphor belonging to those who beckon all they seek into the vicinity of the imagination. A flower from the theatre. A passionate rural howl. Controversy with style. Ignorance of sleep as if being awake had somehow more virtue. In reality, there are those who see the deep and the shallow as part of the same view. Landscape is perspective. Insight has your dimensions.