It is when
I look at the rose, freely blooming
in her soft-lipped, wine-red glory,
not once caring about the thorns
that try to dim her shine,
or the sinful fingers that pluck it
without mercy,
that I realize
its magnificence
lies in its acceptance
of simply being
the miracle
God made it to be –
Be it in the thick of the woods
or between the pages of
your favourite book.

Happiness is a choice,
not materially or physically bound.
Remove the blindfold,
look around.