Roses for Another Day

*Posted by Kirk Spencer

There are three things which are too wonderful for me, four which I do not understand: The way of an eagle in the sky, the way of a serpent on a rock, the way of a ship in the middle of the sea, and the way of a man with a maid. ~Proverb 30:18-19

Love is a many splintered thingromantic love that is. It is not for nothing that delicate roses are covered with thorns or that the color of love is red. Love will put you on the top of the world, then love will make the world go round180. They say love is blind. I dont know anything about that. But lovers are very often blind, as well as deaf and dumb. This is true in the early ecstasies and the 4-evers of youth-four-ia. The incandescence of our projections of perfections onto the objects of our love blind us into immutable silence. We suffer from a similar handicap of sensory deprivation later, much later, in loves vintage symbiosis. Just about the time we begin losing our ability to see and hear, we no longer need to see, or hear, or speak, to know each others mind. Ahbut in those in-between years, when our eyes and ears (and noses) are open and when we can (and do) speak, in those years, it is all eagles soring and snakes slithering and ships lost at sea. It is in this in-between time when we must renew our I dos every day.

Not that I know anything about love. For when it comes to romantic love, I would say with Agur (quoted above) that I am more stupid than any man (Prov. 30:2). Even after more than 50 times around the sun, just when I think Ive learned something of love, all Ive learned is this: Loving means Im always having to say Im sorry. And I find myself constantly grateful that Love covers a multitude of sins, for I have sinned against love so many times. Many years ago, I even captured one of my many sins in this poem:

Roses for another Day

Plastic rose
As seen from here
Looks soft and sincere
And surely it would remind
My lover, longer of my love
But she was of another mind
Seen first in a glistening tear
The moment it was given
I found myself

For a false rose spoke of false affections

And I learned love, to be love

Must be ever fragile

Before the future always vulnerable

Shines the beauty of what we only have now

No promise, but the promise of a new love each day

So now I give a rose that in its dying grows

The seeds of roses for another day

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