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.


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