Philosophical

life cannot be a joy 
where there is no garden 
though we grow it 
finding its rise 
in synergy 
for no man may tell 
what is loved most 
since even when it is together 
it is not what it seems 
and one is left forced to wonder 
beyond the seriousness of people 
and then beyond the now 
for it is one thing to laugh 
and run about the roses 
after everyone has been 
well fed and even when not 
to find joy and satisfaction 
in your work and what you eat 
to have time for what is beautiful 
and then to meet 
that which planted these things within ye

where roses don't grow