We have been led to believe in our artificial thinking that the rosebush dies in the winter,
Yet I wake at sunrise to hear the singing of the birds.
Upon opening my eyes I am witness to their dance and play Atop those dry, thorny branches.
This gives me hope
Which I will welcome into my heart
At every opportunity,
Again and again.
Criticizing and
Nit picking
Is like
Tearing the
Petals from a rose one by one
Because you think they are not good enough;
The wrong color,
The wrong shape.
Getting sad and angry because all that is left is a stem
With thorns.
All along
You
Never minded the roots
And you blame the rose,
Refusing to admit your part.
You were not there for the planting of the seed.
You did not witness the growth of the roots
Yet you stand and criticize in anger and disappointment.
The mind and heart will only continue to see ugly if one thinks and acts ugly.
Chole Into Diamonds 