Did you ever wonder:
What is the beginning of the rose?
The sap that rises with the light
How its ministering angel knows
Which boughs to leave with buds bedight?
Whence the swirl of the rose?
The whirling arms of a Sufi’s dance
A lilting music plainly shows
Its argument in the petals’ trance.
And what will be the rose’s end?
Cast alone on piled debris?
Or its spiral stair may we ascend
To consummate of some mystery.