A Distinction

Does the rose have hopes of red

A longing for a certain shade

Velvet texture crimson

And is that rose disappointed

By its hue of white yellow or pink

Or does that rose grow

In the shade of its genetic distinction

Glowing softly in the evening light

And will the dandelion cry

That it is not a rose

And lacks the thorns and reverence

Bestowed upon its kin

Will it wish to be gathered into bouquets

Symbolizing love

Or is it happy to be medicinal

Golden sunspots on the lawn

Will it revel in its distinction

Pithy roots and hollow stemmed

And will I grow in my distinction

Into the form genetically bestowed

Taking talent and experience

Mixed with trials and errors

And grow within and without my bounds

Not looking at the rose or at the dandelion

With envy or disdain

Can I pull courage from the earth itself

And hopes down from the sky

Transmuting ethereal energy into a

Common cosmic flow

Of love

Will I dance in gentle breezes

And bend low in the storm

Will the sunlight bid me open

And the twilight bid me close

But most of all will I grow here

In this individual distinction

Let my colors be my colors

Without regret or woe

Let my texture be my texture

Each leaf and petal flowing

Out from center

In its predetermined pattern

And will I choose to walk a path

And a destiny pursue

Which will add to life’s collection

Of bountiful blessings

Will I bloom

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