And still, so late in the season,
The rose bravely chooses joy,
Sending out new shoots and buds,
Defying all prognostications of gloom and doom.
We, too, confronted with wintry thoughts,
Can make that choice;
Can reach into the depths of being,
Bringing forth new life into the world
In spite of all the dark and cold
That looms on the edge of consciousness...
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