Rose petals.

I walked back, away from the captivating background of the bridge and began to wonder if stillness surrounded us, would we become more emotionally conscious, or would we instinctively become suppressed by the muted society that fails to find relevance in all that is unfamiliar? I stopped when I reached the part of the sand where the rose petals lay and picked up a few of them. I found a place to sit by the shore. I lifted my white dress up to my knees and laid some of the petals across the crumpled fabric. I took several moments to sense the delicate texture of the petals. I let the rest of the petals fall elegantly out of my hand and into the ocean as the water softly brushed over my feet. I became immersed in the beauty of the petals laying on the water as they swayed with the movement of the ocean. I don’t know what it is about roses that I find alluring. Maybe it’s the way they look under the light of the moon. Maybe it’s the way they begin to cast a hint of black along the curled edges when they expire, but there is a sensual quality that exists in the presence of a rose, a presence that also existed on that night as I watched the people on the bridge in silence, embrace the union of mind and body.