The Rose's Soul
Not every Rose's Thorn
draws blood;
some Loves prick the very soul;
yours did mine;
being more intimate
because of who I am
or was
is now
neither my self
nor thorned bloody rose
destined not to be
myself
without my once treasured
now revealed to be no longer
Individuality-
we sometimes learn
in our latter age
is much overrated.
Those who cling
to the isolated self
most often suffer the Rose's Thorn
ignoring
unaware of its flowered soul
smelling nothing
of its perfume;
it's gifts to be is granted,
it seems
only to those
willing to flow
welcoming
Commingled Being
not demanding
that love
not
change
our individuality
because surely
that is what Love's
Best
is intended to do
and most often does
even if not wanted
or recognized.
Love's History
for good or ill
is always
the same;
where ever you go
or whomever else
you love
those you have loved
keep part of your soul
joyous or sadden;
whether we acknowledge
this or profess to deny
Love's True Mark
is not its blood
but its soul
which can never die
even if sometimes
Love does.
Summary says:
We are helplessly
all the people we have ever loved.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Added by Poetry Lover
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