Separated from reality I find myself, There's nothing left to steady me- I've spent a lot of time searching for perfection, At the end of my journey, I now ask myself one question- Did I really see straight through the truth? As time rolls on, Hour given over to hour, I find a shortage of spiritual power- There I sit, I remain indefinitely the enlightened but detached flower- I feel as if I'll never have roots again, but maybe with time these roots will mend, And this spirit will soar again.
I like it, but your first line makes me think of Yoda. The word order just doesn't do it for me. I like the "detached flower mending roots" metaphor, nice. Except, you say "maybe these roots will mend and my spirit will soar again" but rootedness is contradictory to soaring. Something to think about.
Fleeting is the blossom, when the roots connect to change. Eternal is the flower, with violet petals, which opens as a single eye.
Flowers do not change, only their focus on the sun changes the sun is forever rocking and the ground is forever ripe the universe is forever spinning just each flower is a piece of the same type
