The beauty of a thorn is often
overlooked by the rose.
Its prickly fingers make poor
company in the land of pleasant
looks.
Yet while the rose blooms, and exposes
its naked beauty to the world
The thorn covers itself with virgin robes,
and not even the tulip or the lily can undo
its fibres.
And the beauty of the moon is overpowered
by the sun
For how can the moon compete with the
wonder of dreams?
And man is forced to live by the light of
its opponent.
He gave the moon the stars, as company
for its sorrow,
But even with their infinate patterns and
designs, they too share the moons envy
of the sun.
How sad it is, for an artist to never have his
masterpiece adored by the common mob.
We see these hidden beauties, every morning,
noon and night.
Like the shadow that quietly follows our path,
silently preventing us from falling astray.
They often go unseen, but their grace and beauty
will always be there for those who deserve.
The thorn, the moon, and the stars, fade like
a whisper in natures history.
Shadowed by the dictator of natures divine
ruler.
