Smelled so sweet, for so far distances,
That it made crevices in the soul?
What rose arced the sky with brightness,
Lightning bowed to beauty?
And, not my soul, not my spirit, with you
Went the arcs...but, my heart,
Tearing apart the sky with need,
Want, warmth...that my roses made
Mountains of the crevices?
elysabeth faslund
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-rose/
