Roses and Thorns

Roses come with thorns, so they say. That life has its sweet and sour taste, so it is believed. Peace come after conflict, then it is enjoyed. Sacrifices and bearing pains open the narrow path to God. Is it the muse of foolish poets who manipulate words... Or the delightful musician who could seduce with melody... But what should we say of the charms created by the magical voice.. I wonder at my very existence, did I come to live or made to live... A thorn of a rose pricked my index.. And here I am...lost in a muse, gazing at one drop of blood, priceless... yet it gets lost so easily, Down it goes to mingle in dust and gone, Taking what I reaped from a careful diet... It took me so long to regenerate life in my body time and again, Battling from odd enemies. Yesterday's allergy, today's virus and tomorrow's aging cells. But the most dreadful...human beings! Who are we... what are we? If we cure and kill.. and kill and cure... The blood trickles, one drop lost in dust like thousands of drops lost in a storm of destruction.. Let me check.. It has no name, but it is red and liquid... Do other human...at least the way I'm identified...has red blood?.. Are they made of elements same as mine?.... What legacy I'm to.leave for the next generation?.. Is there a way to dissociate roses from.thorns?.... Please tell me...