The Rose

I Asked The Universal Christ – Part Five

The Rose

Some say love –
It is a river that runs the tender reed,
Some say love –
It is a razor that leaves the soul to bleed,
Some say love –
It is a hunger, an endless aching need.
I say: ‘Love –
It is a flower and we its only seed.’

It’s the heart
Afraid of breaking that never learns to dance;
It’s the dream
Afraid of waking that never takes a chance;
It’s the one
Who won’t be taken that cannot seem to give;
And the soul
Afraid of dying that never learns to live.

When the night has been too lonely,
And the road has been too long;
When you think that love is only
For the lucky and the strong;
Just remember in the winter –
Far beneath the bitter snows –
Lies the seed that with the Sun’s love,
In the spring, becomes

The Rose.

Amanda McBroom

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