Tonight there is quiet
And peace in the solace
Of knowing tomorrow provides
Plentiful harvests of value
To blighted and meaningless lives

Awoken to half-empty purpose
To pour from a cup of concerns
Is like watering gardens with salt of the earth
Empathy blooms only nightshade it seems
If roses know not of their worth

But why do we covet these thorny expressions
Untouchable as they may be
What so possesses the florist's seed sowing
Such colorful flowers, bouquets to be sold
When all of them wither and die without knowing

The answer to why in this vase they grow old