~Rose of Death, Rose of Life~

The petals crowd around each other,

clinging to the last bits of water.

So we do the same, with our petty

ideas.

We can each grow, but we choose to

remain buds, never reaching our

full glory.

The flowering glory opens itself to

the sun.

We should do the same and open our

selves to others.

We must try to, or we will whither

and turn into a thistle.