This dandelion has long ago surrendered its golden petals, and has reached its crowning stage of dying – the delicate seed globe must break up now – it gives and gives till it has nothing left. The hour of this new dying is clearly defined to the dandelion globe; it is marked by detachment. There is no sense of wrenching; it stands ready, holding up its little life, no knowing when or where or how the wind that bloweth where it listeth may carry it away. It holds itself no longer for its own keeping, only as something to be given; a breath does the rest…
~Lilias Trotter from “The Dandelion”
The farm is covered with them now; momentary perfection standing ready to break apart and fly whether jostled by human or animal, breeze or breath.
The sacrifice of one becomes a gift of millions. A breath started it all and ends it all.
How can it be when nothing is left, everything is gained?