Dare I entertain the thought of climbing from my shell? Attempting to engage in the unknown with fear starring me down? For if I see a rose what would I say? What could I say? Time has taken some words from my tongue. Yet, if I find myself with a fond heart and it stirs me, what then? Though I am a bruised reed and a smoldering wick, I may speak foolishly, so that my heart can feel again. But with so much difference, and worlds apart, I start building a wall of fear and doubt. Someday before I fly away, will I ever know? Else I will shrink back into that deep well of wondering again and back into the shell, and miss the rose. But then, maybe God allowed me only one single rose. And to serve him that will be ok..