There atop the
thorny bush
there is a rose.
One rose in late
summer. One rose
against the odds,
against the sky,
against the elements,
against gravity itself,
a thing of beauty,
a point of vivid
life against the
backdrop of normalcy,
the green, the
standard vegetation
and so am I.
Let it be for
me as it is
for that rose
and so it is.
I have no complaint
against the communion
of my soul with
this emblem of
ascendancy. Let
me be as I
am, as it is, as
it was meant to
show me. Grow
above the rest,
everything else and
bloom before the
curtain, against
the way things
are and this
for certain.
Victory is mine.
Triumph is a
rose that has
been given.
♥