A Rose, an Egg and a Piece of Land
Roses are beautiful when in full bloom.
The color is bold and beautiful.
The scent alone is enough to send romance.
Nothing can put out of the mind the serene dream.
Yet roses have thorns, and wilt and wither when cut.
You can't grip it too tight, lest you bleed.
And yet you can't hold it too lightly lest it fall
What passes for permanent is really a fleeting moment.
As it wilts and shrivels, it is no longer comely to behold.
But this does not dim the memory of old.
Love is a balance of what you give and take.
Love is an egg, wholesome and round.
It is perfect in form and truly a wonder to behold.
Some people keep it that way, and reckon they don't want to hurt it.
But to enjoy it you must break it.
Do it hard and you will crush it; do it too lightly and all you do is cripple it.
It has to be done exactly right. In the right place and the right time.
It is fragile but firm, delicate but strong.
Love is a balance of what you give and take to enjoy the whole form.
Love is like a piece of land on which anything will grow.
If you are really interested; you will sow.
You will reap what you sow; maybe more, but certainly not less.
You can grow what you like on it and turn it into a farm of rose bushes and hens or let it grow wild like a lion's den. To be sure, I have to let you know that love in marriage is what you give and take.
In the beginning, it is beautiful, but that is not all there is to it.
In the middle, it is fragile, but that is not the end of it.
As you grow old you enjoy the fruits, figs and flavors of life, which you will find, are as perennial as the grass. And so may your love grow to be all you give and take.