All its life
with nary a word spoken
sits the rose
mute
What does it know
What does it not know
assumptions we make
superiority we take
Yet ask yourself
when a card arrives
a note of recognition
thanks or birthday
all the same
We smile
feel a little warmer
perhaps a bit more secure
fleeting perhaps
an illusion of course
yet, all the same
we know
We know
in the dark hours
with all our words
mute we are
to the mysteries
mute as the rose
just more vocal
ignorance facaded
So I say to you
thank you for the note
and the moment
where I forget my ignorance
and feel a warmth
I'd like to think
is really there
beyond my eyes
6 comments:
Beautiful image Trée.... where everything is resonance!
Wonderful text where the words also are scrambling to be better heard and come to fill the void of time ... through some delicate metaphors.
Splendid image Trée ... Où tout se fait résonnance!
Magnifique texte aussi, où les mots se bousculent pour être mieux entendus... au travers de quelques délicates métaphores.
Merci Pierre. Celui-ci a été écrit avant d'avoir terminé mon première tasse de café. Je pensais à un ami et je le note à gauche, pour lui et le sourire, je l'espère, je lui ai donné. Comme toujours, vos paroles sont très appréciés.
Indeed, what does poor rose know what all it represents to us humans!
But its really strange how beauty makes us feel warmer & better. As John Keats said once: beauty is truth & truth beauty/ and that is all ye know on Earth and all ye need to know...
I like the way Keats thinks. And what you say Mona is truth, but I already knew you were beautiful inside and out. :-)
I like the way you think. Rich soil yields exquisite bloom, so finely detailed, arrangement is mellow, revelation in particles, picture painted as skilfully as when so often bold lines have been drawn, this air-brush technique, the process in itself, is equally enthralling. A sort of gentle nudging from north, south, east and west, in ever closing rings. There is formality in the tone, invitation to participate, to do more than observe, to be provoked in consideration, as there is always occasion to, but in this poem it is requested. If I knew less, I would say more. Having heard some commentary for this poem, I can only say that it was before and is after superb.
Well, Ms Storm, I like what you like and I like how you comment. :-)
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