Wilt to Grow
No body grows until it wilts another
a parable from nature born by roses.
A rose is a promise blossoming with charm
watered in sacrifice to bear hope in beauty.
It grows a calyx filled with love’s wine
swirling around a sepal so divine.
With stamens facing devotion’s sun
it opens its petals to compassion’s fragrance.
In the night it transpires care
in dew droplets taking chances’ dare.
Its petals shade tiny leaves torn
between thorns and trials’ aphids.
Winds of hurt blow its petals away
exposing its sepal to death’s sway.
Poise and brave it lets mishaps rave
about a crumbling sepal seeding in a grave.
Love is a rose saturated with life
destined to wilt to give life.
See the rose it’s how life rose
to face death and cross over morrows.
Dedicated to my mom M.C.K.
Inspired by: See this Rose! Most saturated with the water of life, now fully blossomed;
It will of necessity wilt before all the other brides of the Garden. - Rumi