a rose never asked to be named
language-locked into a single idea
never enough to explore dynamism
the word was only apt in the moment of its creation
a rose will never tell you of its beauty
or of its plans to bloom
it never explains its thorns
or asks to be nurtured, carried beyond its natural failings
it simply is and does
and if we are listening and seeking
if we see and understand
from a place of no history, no future
we find the moment
of an ever-emerging ‘rose’