Seek the flower not the thorn;
Therein lies sweetest nectar.
Sharpest points protect the self.
Who else will be protector?
Dismiss the gore that razor pierces,
Blood merely proves thy worth.
Look deeply to the core of flower,
Where manna, taste thereof.
How have I offended you?
In thought or word or deed?
A moment’s madness, surely?
For to hurt is not my creed.
A tender heart to suffer
At wrongs I may impose,
Please take this humble offering,
Please take, from me, this rose.
A wayward word, a cruel remark,
From proud and sinful heart,
When once the arrow flees the bow
It finds its chosen mark.
This rose, with thorns, I offer you
For friendship is a sword
Double-edged with kindness
And, shame, the hurtful word.