a rose
still
yet beautiful
lies on a rock
hard
yet smooth
warmed by the sun
hot
yet bright
taking control of the sky
vast
yet pretty
it can be an assortment of colors
like the rose
like the rock
like the sun
but the rose is wilted
the rock, cold
the sun, dead
the sky, black
no stars to be seen
just emptyness
but one can change that
the one who doesnt know
the one who doesnt want to
so all will stay as is
until the day
that one
has a metamorphosis
of the mind
of the heart
of the soul