Scholars find the Rose a very fruitful subject. Its strength as metaphor is explanation enough of the legend, say some. See how the plant is fickle? See how the cherub looks angelic, and has a venomous bite?
See how it sucks the very life from the ground! Deadliness, beauty, trickery, and jealousy are all tied up together in this one outlandish notion. Wonderful metaphor for love, won’t you agree?
Is there even such a thing…like a thorn-less rose? I think not. All roses were naturally grown with thorns on their stems. Human…cuts the thorns away, so that it would not hurt them. So that they won’t have their hands bloodied. Yes. Human. Cruel, evil beings.
It is a misfortune that I am one. Human. A black-hearted being, no different from any others of my kind. I fancy roses, and yet…I would have cut away the thorns so that I could admire the sweet smelling flower and enjoy the beauty of it without being hurt…without having pricked… without injuring my hands and spilling droplets of blood.
Why… why can’t we, human…enjoy things the way God wants us to enjoy? Why can’t we accept things the way they are? Why must we change things? Why can’t we love the world as it is? Why can’t we love unconditionally? So many whys… and yet… no absolute answer for it.
Cleffairy: I just want to be me. But being me is so hard to do, because I am not allowed to be me.