The Fable of a Rose in a Secret Garden
There once was a rose in a secret garden. The caretaker of the garden nurtured her and loved her until she grew and blossomed. He had always wanted to caress her petals but was scared of her thorns so he would simply inhale her essence and love her from afar. As time went by, the caretaker quit coming around to nurture her and love her. Weeds started growing all around her, choking the life out of her. But there was no one around who even knew she existed, for she was in a secret garden. Her stems slowly dried, becoming nothing more than twigs. Her velvety petals fell to the ground like tear drops. She thought there was no hope and darkness fell upon her crumbling leaves and the secret garden.
One day, a stranger passed by. He had noticed the dying rose among the weeds and thought to himself, even among the decay and overgrowth, she was quite lovely to behold. So he started watering her roots, pruning away the decay and pulling the weeds away from her, doing so with his heart full of love for her. Life started flowing back into her frail body until she blossomed once more, even more beautiful than before because now, she was truly loved. He would come by daily, unafraid of her thorns, and caress her petals… bringing her desire and passion that ran through her veins all the way to her roots. She longed each day for his touch and when he came by to inhale her essence and tend to her, her vines grew and spread leaving an intoxicating fragrance throughout the garden.
Catching wind of this scent, the previous caretaker decided to visit the garden once more. To his surprise, she had bloomed and spread through out the garden like he had never seen. Desiring her once more, he tried to lay claim to her but she would have none of that. So her thorny vines encased him, trapping him until he became nothing more than mulch for her roots and his secret garden was no more.
The moral of the story is you have to nurture what you love for it to grow. If you don’t it could wither and die or another may find it and revive it, belonging to you no more.
© Akira Cheyenne Feathermoon
