Thistles are like life ...
Delicate beauty surrounded by prickles.
Sometimes I see the magic,
Sometimes I grab the thorns.
Lately, it seems I have been faced with the part of the thistle that hurts.
Grabbing the stem ... the painful leaves.
Bleeding from my wounds ...
Today I am trying ...
To find the flower ...
To leave the thorns alone...
To handle adversity with grace ...
To seek the flower,
Not the stem.
