The Life of a Rose

If we can learn to embrace the rose and see the perfection of it's life and death, then why can't we learn to see each other in the same way? None of us are perfect, and that is clear in every way.
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The Life of a Rose I

The life of a rose is brilliant.
Standing tall and beautiful in magnificence.
No matter if in a bunch, or to itself.
Each rose shines a light, bringing life to our world.
Filling the air with stunning fragrance.
One that can only stem from a rose.
A scent that caresses the senses.
Making dread a bit easier to bear.
For the rose only knows a life of being.
And of death becoming.
Welcoming it with such grace.
As to be the most beautiful of dying things.

The Life of a Rose II

I have a bouquet of roses that rest in a glass vase on my dining room table. They were a gift. One morning as I studied the multi-cultural roses, I picked one out. Holding it, I noticed that the red-pedaled rose was imperfect being stained by brown blemish. The yellow rose brandished tattered leaves and uniquely uneven petals, and as I reached for the pink rose I felt the sharpness of its thorns and realized that each of these beautiful flowers had the ability to harm.

On that morning I learned that roses are beautiful not because they are perfect, but because they are bright and full of life. This they communicate to us through each of our senses. Luminous petals charm our eyes. The touch of something so loving warms our hearts. The silent stillness they draw into any space; and the subtle taste of joy we embrace in the presence of such beauty. The rose is stunning in it's being, all the way unto death. Welcoming the end, just as the beginning.

If we can learn to embrace the rose and see the perfection of it's life and death, then why can't we learn to see each other in the same way? None of us are perfect, and that is clear in every way. Our beliefs are often uneven, our actions sometimes shameful, and our words sharp enough to harm others. Many times intentionally. However just like the rose, the beauty in humans isn't that we are perfect, but that we are alive. And were created simply to be. Why else would we be called human beings? For we are only humans, be-ing.

So why not embrace our life and our path just like the rose? Seeing the perfection in ourselves not because we are perfect, but because we are on a journey to being. With much diligence and love we will become better, shining magnificently together in our individual ways. Understanding that each step we take is a statement of who we are, and who we are becoming in this life, unto the beautiful event of death.

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