When looking at Roses many look for the color Some take time to appriciate the the scent, Few caress the petal I reach for the thorn. I see the sharp point, I appreciate the hardness, I respect its sharp edge I take the time to carress its hidden pain.
Some look for only the pleasure in its petals,
I look for the torture in its stem. Some seek only to feel the pleasure of its beauty I seek to feel the beauty in its coarse spine
Never taking for granted that it's beauty was easily given, For the price of its bloom was thru Toil and Grief.
For the life of a rose is foreborn in strife and hardship Fighting thru ground so hard Fighting to reach the air that feeds its leaves Protecting itself only by thorns closely resembleing claws.
Anyone who is careless and distracted will feel its bite and cry and morn at the sting. Those who respect that in its beauty comes with it a hidden pain will always come away a sense of awe and joy.
So take another look at the Rose before you ... and take comfort in its hardend tears.
""We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses."" — Abraham Lincoln