I reached for the Rose seeing it was of such beauty and bled from the reaching to learn the lesson only such pain teaches and to fit myself to inhale its fragrance and hold its tenderness tenderly in the palms of my grateful hands relishing the preciousness of such a moment of fleeting bliss and the ecstatic taste of Eternity
*brian k. wilcox, 1.6.2005; Rev. Ed. 10.25.2026
Among the changes to this poem in the new edition is the ending. Previously, it read, "Promise of" rather than "ecstatic taste of."
I had meant a foretaste of what would come after death. The 2026 reading presents a change, a shift in perspective. As I stated in the last posting, "eternity" is not a durational term. The word refers to a non-durational reality: no past, present, or future.
Time is a thought. We all have moments when we "forget" time. When we get somewhere late, we might say, "Sorry, I forgot what time it was" or "When I was doing..., I forgot the time." We did not forget anything. We say, "I'll be back in three hours," though there is no such thing as three hours. So, eternity is not something to come; it is now, and there is only this now. The trite, though insightful, saying, "Be here now," finally falls flat. Where else could you be? When else could you be? The Rose neither comes nor goes.
So, how about "moment of fleeting bliss"? Impermanence occurs within the one moment. Fleetingness is possible because it manifests timelessness. Eternity appears, for example, as the sense of being late to somewhere. Yet, outside the relativity of time, the "fleeting" has no past, present, or future.
The sense of the fleeting is a taste of Eternity, too. Eternity is present with the loss of the sense of time and the sense of time. The Rose somehow appears to us in time.
Hence, the "relishing of... such a moment" is the point where the experience of time and timelessness occurs, and beauty is a means to that intimacy. And often, in such a paradoxical moment, we feel both the joy of the meeting and the grief of knowing it will not last, for it cannot last.
*
Decades ago, I was invited by a girlfriend to visit with her an art exhibit. I had never been to an art exhibit, and I knew nothing about the kind of art: impressionist. She had received an art degree from university. I walked in and moved through the exhibit alone, not asking anyone to explain any piece, just looking at the varied works. When I came out, something was different. I had changed. Now, looking back, I see the beauty of what I had seen had been transformative, and without my knowing the profound effect the art was having on me.
*
While enraptured by beauty, a manifestation of Beauty itself - represented by the "Rose" - we meet with ecstasy. This, literally, means "to stand outside." We step outside our usual consciousness, so to speak, and we may lose awareness of ourselves completely, or we may go in and out of self-awareness, the gravity of the moment drawing us back into ecstasy.
*
Many people have accidental experiences like the ones I write of. I mean, they happen by apparent chance. The poem addresses the preparing of self for acclimation to this experience as habitual, or a transformation to living in an ecstatic awareness - which will be slight and calm, as a matter of course, for it is not based on emotion. Likely, others will not even be aware of one living like this among them, at best perceiving something different about the person but not knowing what it is, or just thinking they are weird.
To enjoy the fellowship of the Rose, one must suffer as preparation - "and bled from the reaching." Yet, this suffering prepares one to enjoy the Rose, free of attachment to suffering or non-suffering. For the ecstasy is not based on pleasure but on a love which can equally embrace displeasure and pleasure. The Rose allows one to hold, in the same moment, grief and joy, loss and gain, and doubt and faith in equanimity.
When we choose the Rose, we choose because we have been chosen. The Rose chooses us. And we choose all the possible consequences of our choice. Yet, in such a choosing, we find a life beyond our confined narratives of torture between extremes, so joy in a unity the self could never give itself alone.
In this choice, we do not transcend the world. That is, we do not stand aloof from the world. We see it as it more truly is. We do this through intimacy with it, not through a spiritualized rejection justified by a misunderstanding of detachment. We, as subjects, see as subjects what we previously saw as objects.
*
We reach for love in many ways, ways we didn't realize were love. Waking up to this is liberating, and it leads us to forgive ourselves for the pain we brought to others, and to ourselves, in doing so. And the Rose, graceful as it is, liberates us from the shame of it all. We wake up to how much love has shown up in our lives, and does, in ways we now see but once failed to see. In this, we are gladdened, enriched are our lives.
What can I tell you, and how, about the reality of love? For those who know truth, love is God.
If your heart is stuck somewhere in love, well, all interest in life is gone for you. Death is the name that people use lovingly for love.
Sorry, no remedy, no regimen can have any effect at all. The cure for the ache of love is love.
