Leave the rose alone.
You have watered it enough already.
It did not bloom to your rain,
You have suffered for it enough already.
It is curled up in its vain,
You have shown enough of your trust already.
If the soil beneath it did not spring up bright colors,
Then leave the rose alone.
You have dirtied your hands enough already.
Leave it to the sun,
It will open up its wounds and expose them to the bright daylight.
Leave it to the sky,
It will quench its thirst with its heavy rainfall in the pale daylight.
Don't take it on yourself,
You only have a bucket of water,
but the demand of the rose is to bring her the vastness of the ocean.
YOU ARE READING
You Who Knows Least
PoetryA sequel to my book "You Who Knows Best". Read, and you will find much intellect. The thoughts I share here are of my inner sect.
