The Opening of a Rose
I got lost for a million years,
In the beauty of a rose.
As I walked, lost in thought, a rich Scarlett caught my eye.
I turned my head and there she was, delicate and shy.
Petals wrapped tightly closed, but just open enough to glance.
She appeared to me as if looking over her shoulder, an invitation not by chance.
I lightly held her, not too tight, with space for her to breath.
Between my thumb and forefinger, I held her up for me to see.
As I began to admire her, and twirl her in the light,
she was the most miraculously mesmerising magnificent a sight.
The more I gazed and admired, the deeper I looked, the more she opened still.
One by one her petals began to tenderly unfurl,
with deepest reds, vivid rich with every crimson curl.
I tried to impose my will on her to open faster, but my will only encouraged her to close.
Never had I seen a more exquisitely exceptional elegant a rose.
I returned to just admiring, allowing her to be.
Grateful just to be with her, however that may seem.
And sure enough her bedazzling blooming brilliance began to blossom more.
Beauty can not be rushed I thought, it must not be ignored.
I could not presume to know all she was, all that she would be,
but just enjoy what she revealed, allow my self to see.
This rose, this rose, her revelations came in droves.
As she emerged beneath the sun glistening dew began to run.
I noticed one petal still yet to release, had faltered in its flow.
I asked her why this one petal, was she more afraid to show?
I gently looked at what it hid, and beneath it was slightly different in its form,
a slight tear, slightly stretched, perhaps caught up on a thorn.
I reminded her, her beauty is not held in one single petal, in just her scent or held in just her colour.
It’s in her flower, it’s in her entirety that her wonder is discovered.
And with those thoughts she let go and opened up in full,
seductive, perfect-powerful with mesmerising hues.
Scarlett ran to vibrant pink, with metamorphic myriad of tones,
her perfect perfume proliferated and danced upon my nose.
All life at once held in her centre, the start of all creation.
Intoxicating devine femininity that did not know of hesitation.
At once not two, not me and you, no her, no him, not other, but simply one.
A billion years of reciprocal life entwined in now, nourished by the sun.
My exhalation she inhaled, her respiration refilled my cells. The circle now complete.
And with fresh life breathed through my veins I took upon my feet.
I walked with her so proud in hand, held up in the light.
And as I did she caught the eye of a passer by.
“Wow,” he said, “you are so lucky to have found such a flower.”
He looked at her wide eyed and mouth wider still, bedazzled by her becoming.
I noticed in his left hand, drooped a forgotten wilted rose.
left beneath his shadow still unloved, it still remained still closed.
I felt myself feeling protective of my precious flora.
He stood transfixed and mesmerised I could see that he may have lost his way.
And as I held my Rose more tightly and thought to keep this foe at bay.
I realised hers is not mine to own, to hide and shut away.
Her beauty is the worlds to see, her music hers to play.
I felt her wriggle, I felt her move and I felt her pull away.
I asked if he would like to hold her, and his face alit with glee.
And with that I passed her over and let him walk ahead of me.
I felt the urge to try and look, to try and hold on tight.
But then I knew I must let go, I must not try and fight.
For what luck have I, just to have known such significant a splendour,
and nothing need be more than that, nothing lasts forever.
I walked along with hands behind my back and warm sun on my face,
like a man that had known true love, a man touched by true grace.
Later on when I was sat, a tap upon my shoulder,
“here you go my friend your Rose, thank you for showing me her radiance and kindness,
it helped me find my way again, I found love and light and guidance”
My Rose, my Rose, you’ve returned. I could see she’d travelled far,
as her petals flowed in the wind, I could see that they’d been scarred.
I sat with her and breathed her in, and thought “my god… how beautiful you are”
Never had she been more perfect, her colours came to life.
There was richer reds, softer pinks and now the purest incandescent white.
So sumptuous did she now look, my soul gazed with pure delight.
Just to be with her once more. Just to take her in my sight.
As time passed, as I watched, she grew and continued to transform.
It is not ageing but enriching, petals softened and wisdom dawned.
And as it did so did her power of encapsulation, so did her beauty to.
Now open with full confidence she had never been more beautiful, she had never been more true.
The more beauty that I saw, the more that would reveal.
With every layer of herself a deeper love within myself I’d feel.
To think all that I needed to do to know such beauty, to feel such love, was to see that it was there.
Such perfection in the imperfections that make every flower rare.
To admire her, to be with her, to notice, to love her.
Not to command, demand or reprimand. But to just be. Just to choose to see.
I thank you Rose for all you are, for opening to me.
Thank you for your gift of life, the air you let me breath.
I got lost, for a million years in the beauty of a Rose.
And like every story, every chapter,
this flower to must have her close.
I lay her down upon the grass, as softly as could be,
as much as my heart did feel the weight, I knew that I must set her beauty free.
Now my Rose, back to the earth from which you came,
and although so hard to let you go, I will not wallow here in pain.
As there is no end, no start, and you will rise as life again.
And I will tell of you my love in ink from stroke of pen,
Your beauty will live out in words, within my heart and soul.
Our separation just illusion our halves are always whole.
I got lost, for a million years, in the beauty of a Rose.
To have known her for just a moment, was to have known life,
was to have known all eternity.
Thank you Rose for all your lessons,
for opening to me.