The speaker is waiting for a poem to arrive. They describe a feeling that something inside them is about to burst open, the way a lotus bud opens into hundreds of petals and fills the air with a sweet smell. In the second stanza the image moves inward: the explosion happens in the speaker's breast, and what scatters out are "petals of a poem" in a "virtuous heart." Creativity here is something that gathers quietly and then comes all at once, not something forced.
The word "explosion" is striking next to a flower. It suggests a sudden release of pressure, yet the lotus image keeps it gentle and beautiful. The mood is hopeful and patient, with a touch of restless longing. The ellipsis after "air" lets the scent drift for a moment. Then the final line, "I wait," stands alone and plain. After all the imagery, it admits that the speaker cannot make the bloom happen. All they can do is be ready.