The Rose's Muse
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That which God said to the rose, and caused it to laugh in full-blown beauty, He said to my heart and made it a hundred times more beautiful. ~ Rumi
A sense of apprehension stills my hand
As I reach out to pluck the lovely rose
Weakening my hunger for its splendor
Resting upon some spot in my home
Where I can delight in it whenever I want
Mysterious melancholy weaves through me
Stilling my yearning and forcing me to see
The beckoning of a new pod surfacing there
Where a faded rose shares its depressed petals
Caressing the heavenly masterpiece of vision
Miracles collide with grace and create serenity
From the master’s hand, sweetest sensations
Of inspiration dancing across the heart and soul
Arousing joys that cure all doubt when I chance
The burst of gladness felt as I finally notice the rose
Music softens my calloused feelings with reminders
Of the many times I’ve felt His hand upon my spirit
Harvesting the gentleness, inspiration and kindness
That lives there, producing sensations of pleasure
Alive where I’ve fed and watered the precious beliefs
Whispers of silence breath through my lively intimacies
Embracing me with sensitivity and sighs of encouragement
Revealing in me the need to heal from my past pains
The grief that hopes to cut through my current painting
Of exhilaration with its knife of disillusionment and disdain
The rose finally rests there on the stem instead of my table
Revealing the wisdom of knowing that it will forever be alive
In the thoughts where it displays itself with grace and hope
Reminding me of the dewdrops, the tender petals, the gentle
Experience of not grasping its beauty while it was most ecstatic
Although I often grasped the thorns in my everyday living
This once I refused to give my desires their utmost attention
And decided to leave the beauty where it could last longest
Allowing life to go on where it was bound to encourage someone
With its rich and vivid caress upon the soul who knows its muse
Copyright © Regina Mcintosh | Year Posted 2020
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