Questions that can't be answered

Today, I am but a rose
I live like any other
To love and be loved.
Yet, for all my poise
On a warm summer day,
Who am I to judge
When winter will rest
Its tired feet?
Will I rise
Like a petal in the wind?
Or will I fall
Like an angel clipped of wings?
Who am I but a rose?
A gift of heaven.
A slave of death.
And in the end, unknowing.