Treading so softly she tip toes lest my desires awaken while rapidly the river of time flows.
A rose petal that fell off a branch riddled with thorns bruised and injured, it sobbed alone and floated down.
To rest finally on the cold moist ground shivering in its loneliness a wonder that it still is a pleasure to hold close!
The innocence of grapes, as they enter this world, to get crushed and trampled as they lose bits of their souls.
Their heavenly sweetness faces rigors of existence some turning into a heady wine while others sour and embittered.
But people are not grapes, raisins or roses!
As life squeezes innocence out of us we do get sour, and even bitter But do we really lose that divine sweetness, that awaits patiently within the core of our souls To be born, again, as a fresh new little being, again and again?
