The White Rose

The Secret Garden of Her Soul

The fragile Hummingbird of my Soul 
He beats his tiny delicate wings
He has flown for a millennia
He is tired and ready to die
But he hums in delight at the sight 
Of your dazzling lonely White Rose 
The centrepiece in the magical Secret Garden of your Soul

Instead of chasing away 
The White Rose calls for the Hummingbird
She sings her encouragement and yearns for his attention 
The White Rose provides her rich sweet essence 
The hummingbird, he drinks long and deeply 
Her heavenly nectar; her gift to him. 
She provides, not for any reason, other than the Love she has for him

The hummingbird, he grows strong 
He starts to glow
He starts to mutate
He sunbursts into an intense fiery Phoenix of my Soul!
But Your Secret Garden doesn’t suffer
It does not erupt into a deadly inferno of broken hearts

The incandescent photons from the Phoenix’ fire 
Irradiates the leaves synthesising new growth
The fallen sticks of yesterday’s deadwood
Of cultural constraints and past masculine hurt 
Shrivel and burn away to fertile ashes in readiness for 
New Life in the Secret Garden of your Soul

The Phoenix of my Soul
His jewelled eyes begin to glisten as he weeps in Divine Joy 
For he is in Love with the majestic visage of your Secret Garden
The cool stream of his tears do not boil away
For they fall gently and silently
Into the moist fertile soil

The tears soak into the earth
They seek the seeds deep within the Secret Garden of your Soul
From which grows afresh:
Bushes of heavenly scented White Roses.

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