The Unbloomed Rose

I know the heartbeat of the unbloomed rose: 

the thump thump thumping of color and life against petaled walls 

I know what it's like to live, alive and vibrantly: to have consciousness pouring through this vessel and be reborn within a day, within a moment's time 

I know the symphony that silence can create 

when a glance and a sigh play in harmony to the rhythm of existence 

But most of all I know the aching of Eden's roots and what pulses and moves and breathes within this earth; I know its touch, I know its face, I know its song

I know it's waiting to feel and be felt, to see and be seen, to sing and be sung 

in open air, before the daylight 

And I know that there exists no embrace nor sight nor sound that could answer the flower's muted cry except that knowledge which confesses that the sun's rays move to the same soul song, too.

I know the heartbeat of the umbloomed rose: it is my own

and it is longing to be known 

and it is waiting here to know: do you?

Reviews

[emmajoy]

I truly hope and pray so.. or if not, my heart's frozen over!

What wonderful words you've laid above. Each section seems to tell a story of its own, is an unsaid beckoning to take to heart and understand. To wait for anything worth having is itself a gift.