Unfinished

I see with acuity,
there's so much ambiguity,
surrounding a failed continuity,
when tasked with the idea of congruity.

The same cloud that surrounds that phrase,
can be compared to the petals of a rose in a mid morning haze.
Sparkling and beautiful, its own piercing rays,
distant glints behind a water-filled gaze.

Hidden in a rose’s petals, there, many secrets lie,
many of which have gone awry.
Though words of this are all belie,
the truth is hidden behind layers of beguile.