Revisionist Poetry – “The Inner Bloom” – Into The Heart, v.3

He enters the rose
as if entering a dream.

Petals open around him,
not in colour alone,
but in fragrance,
in satin weight,
in the fine tremor of things unfolding.

His camera waits at the centre
of this living architecture.
What it captures is not merely a flower,
but the world inside a flower:
dense, breathing,
almost too delicate to name.

And we, looking through his frame,
step into that hush as well,
where beauty is not announced
but quietly revealed.