Flower or Thorn?

Pregnant with your being in the space that exists I wander I wander and pass by the low wall, and the empty soda cans, livid heaped on one another stalled on the way to recycling. The wild roses of Ordibehesht have run up the wall have opened they laugh at the tickling play of the wind... – Two contradictions? Meaning unreconciled? Forever unreconciled? – What is true? The wild rose or the wall? The flower or the thorn? What is true? This paradise within or this outside? This hell? Brimming with you, brimming with the seeds of your ever-spring I wander I wander, clothed in your scent clothed in your water which has covered me like the shield of the fountain of life from head to toe; and I pass through the life outside – from one hell to another as if outside us – I pass and the earth – small, small – beneath my bewildered steps is drinking your drops and grain by grain, takes them into itself and takes on the silver threads of your wave my love flowing from my hair and my naked body flowing from my eyes and every joint of my fingers...