Para valiente la rosa
en la noche
a la intemperie
Y cada pétalo suyo
es una mano
que tiende, a la vida
y cada espina un peldaño
hasta alcanzar su corazón
Para valiente la rosa
nacida muda
firme y tierna
hasta su final
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La soledad es un existir sin existir,
el ensayo de la muerte; ser, sin buscar
La vida vibrante entrando a borbotones; barriendo toda duda.
Pero si lo piensas
con ese amor que sigue latiendo, cuando
el corazón deja de latir
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Este poema no es de william williams, así que
tiene que ser del Master.
¿Master, sabes algo de un espléndido poema sobre
el coraje de querer de la rosa?
Un abrazo
Narciso
el poema nació de los versos: cada pétalo suyo es una mano que tiende a la vida.
Fue una época, allá por el 2014, en la que me dio por describir cosas específicas.
Es mío, es mío.
No tenía idea de que hubiese un poema sobre el coraje de la rosa.
abrazo
Ángel