From the florists window

#Life is uncertain and it often feels like we are being drowned under it weight.We are infinitely negligible to the cosmos but yet our problems run through the heavens. The poem describes us as a pebble and life being a vast ocean in the sense that the pebble is submerged with no way out. if it was a phoenix it would evaporate the ocean but again uncertainty...the cost would be to return to dust.
Another part speaks of a #rose in a storm which was uprooted and planted at a florists window. The rose is the poet and the earth is his lover. the storm is tribulations and the #florist is life. they have been separated and now the poet wishes to be with his #love again while gazing lustfuly from the artificial pot or plastic wrap he was kept in at the florist shop; hoping that one day, agains all odds they might be reunited.