Monday, October 17, 2005

opening up

The soul of the rose is a bittersweet thing. Once uncovered it is near it's end. Only in the shelter of the bud will it know safety, and in the recklessness of unfurlment will it know life. The sweetness of dew kissed mornings before the harshness of death. I choose to bloom. To drop my petals one by one until they can fall no more and I am left exposed to the bare beauty of life.

1 comment:

Storm Rider said...

To watch something so beutiful open itself to the warmth of that which it has yearned for, to feel what it has never felt and has waited since birth to feel,
is truly a ounce in a lifetime moment!