Were a rose to know the gift of its own fragrance,
it would surely die… fulfilled.
Sweet attar of its sigh
lulls open the red petals of my own empty heart
who could behold such hollowness
without imaging all it can hold
’tis recompense for the rose, I draw deeply…
and die beautifully.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 6:28 PM UTC
Were a rose to know the gift of its own fragrance,
it would surely die… fulfilled.
Sweet attar of its sigh
lulls open the red petals of my own empty heart
who could behold such hollowness
without imaging all it can hold
’tis recompense for the rose, I draw deeply…
and die beautifully.
