To recite what is in one’s true heart
Is the sound of a rose opening,
Reddening stealth of its petals felt
Open, for rainwaters gathering.
From one’s lips, another sips
The others poem, a cup
In which to pour, their other’s evermore
Can another’s other ever fill enough.
And should that rose be clipped or closed,
Tilt its flower and fall to earth
Be nothing wasted, in reflections tasted,
by bud to bloom, all love is birth
Beauty makes the heart lose balance,
Spins circles in the foam of the mind
’Tis not important which turn is last
be it hoops of hope, or rings of past
All soulful gaze, through unknown waves,
Is forever remembered as a fragrance cast.