Even Jesus bled under a crown of thorns

Beneath the beautiful crown of petals that adorn every rose there are thorns.  In a full bouquet of posies men are dazzled by the beauty of the head of the rose and its subtle fragrances, together with the shape and texture of the petals.  The rose in many arrangements can cause some men to lose their minds, as their hearts begin to quicken their pace.  But the truth of the matter is men are never aware of the thorns.

Every man seeks to find the perfect rose within the world’s bouquet, the one that will bring him endless pleasure and fill his life with beauty.  He seeks the flower to brighten the end of his day and give his every waking meaning. He seeks one to help him realise dreams and lift his spirits to a higher place.  But in plucking the rose from the earth he will always find that there are thorns.

Placed on a pedestal in a crystal vase, far removed from her place in the ground nourished by the earth, the rose will always wither.  Gone from the gaze of a sunlit sky and pampered by the touch of the morning dew, she will always struggle to retain that which gave her beauty.  The buzzing bee might still visit and thus with their pollen spent some give up their beauty and choose to wither in order to give birth to another bouquet. But nonetheless, the thorns will always remain.

Forgetting the sight which draws a man to a particular rose, some seek anew for a more vibrant and fragrant flower.  We men can forget sometimes that it is we in the end who place her, spent, in a crystal prison, nourished from the sachets of almost food designed to keep her strong for those extra few days before the petals begin to fall. But if a man turns his back there will always remain, still standing tall after the petals fall, a stem whose appearance has long been neglected and it is only when your back is turned that you will find that there are thorns...