do you love me?
November 23, 2014 § 1 Comment
He asked me a question. I knew the answer. But I had buried it in deeply. Consciously. Intentionally. It was stuck in a place where it had no room to grow. Though it ached for the dew drops and the sunshine, I could not bear to let it go. For the moment I part with it, I have no doubt that an ocean will spring into life, and a mountain will rise from the ground, and a forest will cover the land. And on that same world of growing magnitude, there will be that single delicate rose. Unadulterated, it will bloom. It will bloom as easily as a falcon can cut it in a single stroke.
I was not prepared to bear the death of that rose.