The mind’s an artificial rose

Thoughts are innocent even up close

They borrow fragrance and beauty

To catch our awareness off duty

Thoughts will reflect our thorns

But we are more interested in their forms

Thoughts never dry out

Like an artificial rose surviving drought

To find authentic flowers before they wilt

We must be free of the guilt

Of pleasure seekers, who forget what’s real

While they worship a flowery ideal

We are the ground, moist and ready

For seeds that will give a harvest of plenty

The scent will be true, as will the shade

Of the meadow, that is not artificially made