THE ROSE GARDENS


 

 

 

 

In my small backyard are three rose bushes that rise to my height. They are skinny near the soil but expand outward full of branches bearing roses and green small flowers. They are full of life, blooming with the full power of the sun. They are also tossed about by the wind and the rain, which makes them heavy bending them towards the ground, where they hang like bent old women, afflicted with osteoporosis. Yet, they are still full of youthful wrath, for as I try to lift the branches up again, the thorns bite me and scrape me. Though they may be heavy with rain and age, they still are strong and bold.
    As symbols of beauty, roses cascade our poetry in great abundance, preserved forever in the words throughout the centuries. These roses are history of the great love have for the eternal beauty of the universe. In life and in death we find rose bushes. By the great cemeteries of the past we find vintage rose bushes renowned for their color and their vitality, as they hang over the silence of the graves, flowering season after season.
    I found a new rose garden today. Sharing the virtues of a grander world and deeper history, this rose garden was a rich tapestry of color woven in the actions of wisdom and its opposite. The roses of this garden were still as sharp as my roses, and yet imbued with the spirit of the poet standing in the light of the crescent moon. Under this caring light, the roses reflect the rich color of personal experience where each rose reflects the face of human action. Each rose gleams in the spirit of eternal wisdom. While some roses shine in the brilliance of human love, others lose their color in the rejection of compassion, and the changing of color shifts in perpetual motion. In the twinkling of color, I ride the wave of emotions hidden deep within each rose. In this the rose always asks how shall I shine for you.
    The roses always aspire to be their eternal form, or at least represent this infinite possibility. Sa ‘id, or Muslih al Din, grows a rose garden full of beauty graced by the love of the universe. He is a gardener of human potential, steeped in the rhythms of the experience of faith and surrender. His roses grow to all ages and all seasons, just as my aspire to do. In looking at my roses, I think of the small courtyard where his roses grew, much like the roses that grow in my small backyard, and I think that every day I share in the grace and the beauty of the eternal strength of roses.

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