White Roses
09/24 2021
When every feeling feels the same,
And even the wide world feels small,
It ends fully at your doorstep.
White roses stray your flowerbed,
People pass by to pick them
But not that you care, of course.
You do the same things over and over,
And blame the way things are
On your only witness, you.
To eat or not to eat, that is the question.
To close that non-existing chapter,
All over again.
You might think that things are no different,
That while the sun goes up and down
It still shines somewhere else on this pebble.
But if that is true, then why ask for forgiveness?
Is it because you think that nobody is listening?
Or is it because you suspect that a part of you is wrong,
And that the white roses that grow around your house
Are something special after all?
Things disappear when you see them,
When you see them come and go
Through the universe's universal process.
Can you honestly say that it must be what you think it is?
That the white roses grow independently,
Yet remain perfectly disconnected from you?