July 16, 2017

The Gardener's Rose | #CapturedInWords

The gardener pruning for the prize he was told to want, doesn't see the whole garden, but his rose he feeds by day and by night, without stopping to feed himself, or another. 

The gardener who pricked his hand by a thorn so punishes, withdrawing for days without nurture, aghast in the shadows as the beauty bloomed for two falters and fades. 

The gardener who whispers to his roses that they're beautiful as he teases off their petals so gently they hardly notice, one by one, softly he caresses them with words, until they're merely a thorn.

The gardener who is rarely seen, dances among his flora and his fauna, hiding in their sanctuary, as such never reflecting himself, he takes no form in the mirror, he is nothing in the water but dissolving light.


I have a terrible habit of never finishing what I set out to write and you know what? That’s fine. For me, writing is a progressive, evolutionary act and so I try to publish in short, first drafts to give myself less of a hard time and the freedom to capture whatever I feel at a given time. 

You can follow along on Instagram with the hashtag. I’d love it if you added your own, too.

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