0320 Forget Me? Not!

To see the greatness of Creation - greater than science, greater than religion – and perhaps to see in mind, perhaps to praise, look to the smallest things. Even before the mustard-seed of faith today I choose - the forget-me-not, and its thoughtful seeds. It has this habit of, each year, colonising a different area of the garden; and I wonder, what is its essential character? Is it like that prim, fussy, difficult elder relative, for whom you’ve carefully arranged a day out somewhere then when you tell her as a nice surprise she says oh I’ve been there, as if you’re just thoughtless and that puts the kybosh on it? or like some energetic missionary – plant the seed of faith, then move on fast, don’t wait to see whether it’s taken root, move on, there’s so much more to do, so many souls… or like some far-eyed, romantic Wild West pioneer, who looks into the glory of the setting sun and pushes onward, ever onward, to unknown splendours under a Western sun until one day, there’s blue beyond the furthest ridge? or, like a child with sparkling eyes, mischievous, laughing, saying, let's play hide-and-seek, now close your eyes and count to ten, no I'm not there, or there, or there, I'm here, and here, and here... or is it Creation’s memory of itself, itself, reduced by some wise cosmic greatness of the miracle of miniaturisation to a still small voice, so small that only the eye can hear it, blue as an angel’s clear blue mind, saying, forget Me not (for Scarlett, who added to the fun)