Our love is either rose or thorn.
One leaves us whole, the other torn.
Which one is which? There is no trick.
The first we smell; the second, pick.
When we pick love we end our growth.
Not just who's picked but of us both.
Together we must each have 'ground'.
That's where love's nourishment is found.
The 'ground' is our capacity
Which realizing sets us free
From self-destructive tries to fill
The void with love; we never will.