Thorns.

In the Spring I came upon the holly growing wild in the woods. The young leaves, a translucent green, so soft and delicate to the touch, their thorns still jelly-like and pliable. These unformed leaves are so unlike the scourge of gardeners who are forced to wear thick gloves to protect their fingers from the painful thorns of the fully matured leaves of this slowest growing of shrubs. We are like the holly- in our youth pliable and fragile and in our older years, we grow thorns to hurt others and ourselves. The distance between our youth and old age is long like the holly that takes years to grow a mere 12 inches. And our advance as spiritual beings is slow and the thorns inevitable.