I am a gardner.

In a garden of melodies.

There is a rose in the middle of the garden.

It is so delicate yet sharp in fangs.

How can I handle such a rose?

With caution or courage.

Every day, it draws me near.

And seduces me like a song of sirens

Especially when its black petals flicker with the breeze.

It is calm and comforting.

Yet deadly and poisonous.

It shines brightly, like a ring newly placed on a maiden’s finger.

But also dull as a beat-down, rusted blade.

This is the rose that all poets ignore.

The rose with petals on which are written all things.

People do not want to hear.

It challenges the minds and mentalities

So unplugging it.

You must be slow and patient.

So that you do not offend anyone.