Life Like A Rose Poem by Mohammad Younus

Life, like a rose,
neither owned nor kept,
blooms not for possession
but for the joy of unfolding—
fragrant, free,
a gift to the wind,
a vision for the wandering eye.

Yet how often do we reach,
fingers eager to claim,
to make it ours?
And in that grasping,
the thorns sink deep—
desires turned sharp,
attachments turned wounds,
a quiet ache mistaken for love.

But love does not clutch,
nor bind, nor bruise.
It watches petals unfurl
with open hands,
with a heart unburdened by need.
To truly live is to let go,
to walk among roses
without longing to own their bloom.

God, the eternal gardener,
would He let the rose wither?
Nay, He tends its bloom
with love's soft breath,
a whisper of mercy,
the elixir divine.

Whoever beholds life as sacred trust
knows its essence weaves with the unseen—
for life, in its purest form,
is but a mirror of eternal light.
Each petal, kissed by the Unseen Hand,
unfurls in silent devotion,
and in its fragrance, one may hear
the whisper of undying truth:

I am the One. I am the Life. I am the Truth.

— MyKoul