The Rose

He saw the rose And all around the rose an aura glowed Enveloping the rose, as if It was the rose itself That glowed And when the breezes blew The rose, and aura, moved As one – with grace and ease And beauty, such as that he thought he’d never see There was no love within his heart That day, nor none he held apart, Nor beauty much to be desired To set his raging soul afire Yet something there about the glow Which held him, lo – The splendid aura of the rose Arrested all his thought And made him doubt All that he thought, and thought about – And then he started to, As one who long ago had died Sudden springing back to life, alive! For what he saw without reproof Was nothing but the true unyielding truth – ‘Twas not the aura set apart Enveloping the rose with outer glow, But an inner flame within the rose That burned – that burned! – Out of which both rose and aura glowed –