For Ayşe

This morning I saw a flower hidden in the sharp and thorny weeds of the city. Her beauty was like a mirror that has reflected too much of what is false and shallow in this world. Later, a warm rain fell, washing over the mirror of this flower's forlorn reflection and from that ritual cleansing emerged a rose so beautiful, so radiant and fragrant that the city forgot itself, lost itself in the magic of her transformation. I saw this...this birth of beauty...this revelation, like a religion, like something worthy of worship. Like something - someone - for whom Love was created.