The Withered Rose

In a time of waiting,

The rosebud slept in the garden,

Waiting for it’s time to unfold,

Patiently it grew,

Slowly,

Waiting for it’s time to unfold,

For only God can unfold the Rose,

In Gods timing, the rose began to bloom,

The glory of the Lord in all its beauty,

Every petal had its place,

Each day the rose bloomed more and more,

Opening unto the world around it,

For only God can unfold the rose,

Through every season and every storm,

The rose grew in strength,

Color changing and deepening with age,

It’s beauty exceeding in each new stage,

It’s petals so vibrant and true,

For only God knows how to grow the Rose,

Each drop of rain brought life,

The Rose bloomed fully opening,

It’s beauty shown in grace,

With vitality and hope for its future,

It’s scent pouring from each petal,

For only God knows how to grow the Rose,

As the seasons wore on,

The raindrops began to dry,

This rose began to wither in the heat,

Slowly it’s color dimmed,

The scent began to vanish,

For only God knows how to maintain a rose,

It’s petals began to weaken,

And its life began to fade,

The rose no longer felt like His glory,

Slowly, sadly, the rose withered,

It’s petals began to close,

For only God knows how to maintain a rose,

During this time locust began to come,

They swarmed the Rose,

The Rose was sorely damaged,

Life left each petal,

And the Rose began to fall,

For only God can maintain a rose,

Holding on,

The withered rose rooted itself deeper,

The sky opened up,

And a drizzle began to fall,

With each drop, the rose drank,

Deeply and fully it drank,

Life filled every petal,

As the Rose began to bloom,

For when God unfolds the Rose,

He always does it right...