Did you know…
There is a name for a rose that never blooms?
It closes so tightly in on itself that it cannot open.
They call it the Bullet Rose.
It never gets the glorious, torturous Break Down that screams, “Yes! Yes I am alive!”
Instead its petals are like arms crossed defiantly over a chest refusing to let any feeling in.
And isn’t that the Real Tragedy?
Because something happens in the breakdown:
It is the undefinable Mark of Chaos;
A mark that becomes clear-cut only by its utter Confusion where
Going into total Dissolution;
Suffers to become butterfly
And so, too, do I.
I know by now It is coming.
Ah but I fight it, I fear the pain.
That is where Acceptance comes in
And having a memory that can hold onto knowing
That the Break is never The End.
We either evolve or regress or worse yet…
Hiding too long in one place
We erroneously believe is safe.
Like the poor Bullet Rose
That never gets the Beauty of the Break.
Nor the Resurrection that is only faithful moments