The rose

With my left hand I repel and embrace.
With my right hand I create and destroy.
I stand before you, both hands free.
We remember past hopes and joy.

Listen to this moment – silence is alive.
Nothing divides and nothing draws us close.
Attention is all we exchange,
Attention in the shape of rose.

I longed for witness. Before whom? No one.
Was my heart pure? No. But I insisted.
We give; and what are we but gifts?
Gifts we forgot we’d accepted.

To doubt is to attempt holding back time,
Lifting time’s illusion with illusion.
I may trust, knowing there is trust.
At times we feel with precision.

We part ways like rose petals in the wind.
We will return when time again is still,
For no more delight but to see,
With no more longing to fulfil.

in original form c. 2017