The rose it opens
the light not seen,
its total bliss
was always waiting there
for the self to dissolve
in the purity of love
but the thread that
carries with it all I feel
catches on the vagaries
of the blues
in pain and yearning
comforted
for what has long denied
my striving kindness
what is there as
mere perfection now
except inside the mind,
the heart locked
on a phantom
larger than itself,
a small thing lost
in an infinite embrace
from which there's
no returning
