For Sherman Alexie, who loves poems about Croci.
Khairestrate caresses fevered brow
of young woman who shifts in restless sleep.
"Our soul is like sweet Krokos flower that glows
bright purple with light of half-risen sun.
We bury our soul like Krokos bulb deep
in green swelling mound of our mother world,
and there we sleep in sweet refreshing dreams
during dark night of anguish and despair,
so Mother Khthonie dismantles our sorrows
and reassembles our love from rich dreams.
Then with bright rising sun that beams soft rays
over distant hills to wake living creatures
we wake from death and rise from dreaming minds
like tender shoot from buried Krokos bulb
which opens purple petals to receive
warm rays of kissing light that revives well
our animating soul from sleep of death,
and thus we rise again, healed and refreshed.
Like Krokos bulb must be buried to bloom,
we bury souls in sleep so we may thrive."
from Garden of Epikouros
Hermead Epic of Philosophers