Saturday, October 20, 2018
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ROSE (Poem)

ot far
from my backyard window,
a Rose, with its splendour stands aloof
from other shy flowers in the garden.



Often do I stare out,
without allowing birdsí song echoes
from the tree canopy
distract my enchanted mood
to savour the beauty of the flower
and welcome to my nostril,
its therapeutic fragrance.


Then the query: With elegant wine cup in hand,
and a fixed gaze at the rose,
I ask: Rose, what do you symbolize?
Beautiful, sweet scented, but you have thorns,
sharp pointed thorns that hurt.
A mixture of fair and foul?


No, I have always maintained.
Mother Nature sometimes
acts like a sly fox
by the way she operates.
She conceals,
and with our finite brain,
we struggle to unravel and decode.
Precious things
cannot be obtained with ease.



The stem of the Rose,
does fit into the vertical path,
which I must tread
to actualize my dream.


What about the sharp thorns?
Do they not represent
the inevitable obstacles,
trials and sacrifices,
I must encounter along the way?


Then the folded petals.
Itís my quest, my desire and destination.
Itís that, which I must approach and unfold
with the sunbeam from my heart.
A conquest, whose joy is immeasurable.