Becomes the Rose
Becomes the Rose
It started small and closed off,
no hope for it.
The pitiful walls were devoid of beauty.
I would not have chosen to look upon it
had it not been in my way.
That was when I realised my own power.
This pitiful growth did not have to be in my way,
for I had the power to change my way.
So I did. No longer would I have to look upon it's long green tower
and it's disappointing sickly pink walls.
I changed my gaze to look upon beauty.
But my intentions were austed
When I chanced to throw a contemptuous glance at it,
only to find myself in the full glare of it's bloom.
My heart stilled by shame
For I had found myself out
My soul breathed again given life by the hopeful humility.
I had almost missed it,
In my foolish conceit I nearly walked on by
dismissing these humble beginnings
and this humble flower would never had become a rose
for the Truth is only what my eyes see
and I can choose where they look and for how long they stay
So I fear I have missed much beauty
because too quickly I have dismissed the bud
...and so I thought maybe,
maybe I must learn to stay...
More of my poetry
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