A ROSE WITHOUT A THORN

I stand on the other side of the mirror.
Where the focus is sharper and clearer.
Released from your eyes
Is a talent that cries.

Where the sadness is looming
A Black Rose is blooming.
From bitter earth it spawned,
While its infancy dawned.

Living water you need
To germinate your seed.
With roots firmly planted
It rights what was slanted.

Suffocation, mutation
Humiliation, creation,
And a natural star is born.
Behold, the rose without a thorn.

I perceive with crystal clarity,
Its beauty and its rarity.
Reinventing its form,
Like the calm before the storm.

Absorbing the heavy metals
She lifts and raises her petals
Reaching to sun from the dust.
With abandon and wanderlust.

What height could she achieve,
If only she’d believe?
Her immaculate reflection
Is nature's own perfection.

RMB,OD 12/27/2004.