Often times people relate a rose to love as an expression of what love is. Love is….defined in various ways, lived for, sought out, diversely distributed throughout ones lifetime, whether by sight, or by mind, its no wonder no one can function properly without it. It is within the realm of the difference between wants and necessity where we fine commonality with one another. Once many things, fearful of hurt, love, and all I associated with it, the unrealistic idea I distinguished from a reality that only lived as a fantasy in real life.
Only a rose can recognize the water it needs to grow, only a rose can grow from a tiny seed, only a rose can spring up even though the soil in which it was planted was once weak. It has no choice but to blossom. If beauty adds to its essence, then so be it. With all we strive for in life, this rose cannot symbolically create a platform for all we desire to feel, to be, to know. However when we mimic its growth, we find that a rose is not love itself, but the time it took to grow.