As I stood on the dock and watched the cone-shaped pods bob gently above the water's surface on long spindly stems, I wondered if it was not only the weight of the summer sun that had forced the lotus petals to finally drop, but also the ancient history and symbolism which this little plant bears on its delicate shoulders.
Purity of mind, body and speech. Progression from chaos to clarity. Wisdom and enlightenment. Divine beauty.
Then, only the seed pods remained, like little watering cans scattered amid outstretched leaves the size of dinner plates. Though no longer a flower, it is in this stage that I find it the lotus the most beautiful, where I find my meaning.
Purity of form.
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