Soft Rose
A soft rose amidst thorns
Entices in beautiful perfection.
As silky petals unfold, trembling
It sways, now and again, in the gentle breeze.
Draws water from the earth deep down
Displays bright bunches in layered petals.
The soft rose fills even the weariest heart
With joy and laughter.
A light breeze hums themmangu
The dainty rose joins in a graceful dance.
Did that one red bud open
To reach Lord Siva’s tresses graced by lightning.
Bees chase your tempting nectar
O the gold bunch intoxicates, look!
You adorn God’s feet and crown
Like the pure heart laid down in surrender.
Is it some wondrous magic within the soil
Or is it the sun burning up in the sky
Who then might be the fine sculptor
Who chiselled you, soft rose
To stand so proud in exquisite beauty?
1 comment
To paint a picture of the exquisite beauty of a red rose and to extoll its divinity by picturing it at the head and feet of him whose beginning and end could never be found even by fellow Gods is a master stroke indeed.