Rushing along the path, like so many days gone by,
Lost in thought, to the world around, when by chance, the eyes do spy.
A rose along the path, so simple in its grace,
Beauty beyond perfection, almost missed in haste.
Captivated by the sight, all urgency disappears,
As thoughts that were important, are now replaced by tears.
To happen upon such beauty, so exceptional and rare,
Nothing short of miracle, an answer to heart's prayer.
Time stands still for a moment, but duty refuses to wait,
Reluctantly moving on, not wanting to be late.
The walk along the path next day, unlike the days before,
Filled with anticipation, and hopes to glimpse once more.
Resolved to spend more time, basking in the sight,
Of a beauty and perfection, that makes the soul take flight.
Alas, the beauty sought, comes into view once more,
Fills the heart with joy, and touches to the core.
Enraptured by its beauty, so majestic in this place,
A thought begins to form, and a frown crosses the face,
Beauty this rare is much to grand, to exist amongst the weeds,
It deserves so much more than this, there's something more it needs.
Led by pure intentions, and motivated by love,
With righteous justification, that only comes from above.
For only one that truly sees, and honors a beauty so rare,
Is worthy for it to be, entrusted to their care.
And so to honor its beauty, resolved to make things right,
A plan begins to form, in dreams that very night.
Awakening next day, visions of what should be,
Preparations are made, the path is clear to see.
Carefully a pot is placed, beside the beauty found,
The spade hungrily thrusting, as it rapes the sacred ground.
The rose and all it's beauty, once so wild and free,
Suddenly taken captive, whispers not a plea.
Arriving home with prize in hand, assured its rightful place,
Beauty now exalted, a smile upon the face.
And so each day with a careful eye, loving hands at their chore,
Begin to mold and shape perfection, into something so much more.
With every subtle change that's made, to help the rose become,
All that one believes it should, the damage is slowly done.
The beauty that once had captured, the heart and soul that day,
Becomes a distant memory, as its beauty is pruned away.
The beauty once so wild and free, no longer there to see,
has slowly been transformed into, what the beholder wished to see.
But beauty so divine, was never meant to be,
Captured or contained, to live it must be free.
Only time will tell, if it's passing was in vain,
Or if a deeper truth, it's passing did contain,
And so the story goes, yet another day,
In hope of finding beauty, and love along the way.
Rushing along the path, like so many days gone by,
Lost in thought, to the world around, when by chance, the eyes do spy.
A suitor along the path, so simple in their grace,
Beauty beyond perfection, almost missed in haste.
PhoenixRecords
