He Fights; Just fights!

In the mist of illusions
A rose blooms
No soil, no water, no light,
No floor to call its root
However, it is not ready to loose
Instead shows alacrity to fight.

In the expansion of weather
Withering petals do not doom it
They do not budge him from his sustenance
He may not have all the beauty
However, who said he needs a beautiful countenance.