They said you are not doing it.
They said you are not able to do it.
As the rose strives to bloom,
They mock its green sheaths protecting.
Some have patience.
They perceive the floral colors,
The heady fragrance within.
Tip you head to recognize their virtue.
They nourish your roots.
Bloom for them!
Bloom also for the censurers.
How else to show the futility
Of attempts to yank out the vine,
But to burst forth in flourishing magnificence?!
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