Fair is the Rose

 

Fair is the rose in the clutch of sorrow

How soft the petals slowly float down

Sitting upon the ashen skin of a beauty

Immersed in the soft silver light’s glow

 

A prick from the thorny stem does not harm her

The winter wind biting at her skin has no effect

The summer heat is non existent to her

She cannot feel her hands touching her own skin

 

Her eyes the shape of almonds

The colour the very shade of depth

Reflection of profound thoughts

She gazes into and beyond time

 

Wisdom resides in the grotto of her mind

A labyrinth of thought and knowledge

She strums the chords of genius

She holds the minds of scholars

 

Jet black spills over the white shoulders

Down the curve of the spine and back

Wisps flowing in the current of the wind

Twirling and dancing with winter’s breeze

 

Elegant curves make up a striking frame

Slender legs and arms with fingers dainty

Graceful lines masterfully paint a lovely face

Blossom pink lips kiss the porcelain

  

Gossamer black silk forms to skin

Twisting in the breeze they become one

Bare perfect feet knead the soft earth

Toes playfully stroke the blades of grass

 

Banned to the black of the night

As the world plays all day in sunshine

She does not step into the dawn

Morn to dusk is spent inside of her home

 

 

 

The moon and stars are her only company

She bathes in the its beams

She dances with the twinkling stars

The night is her lover

 

 

Time does not touch her

She is a wrinkle in its folds

Centuries and decades pass

Moments add to the bank of many gone by

 

 

With all that which she holds and is

She still searches out sensation

She still longs for more than neutral

She cannot wish fore she cannot dream

 

 

Passion has not penetrated the dark corners of her heart

A face with no expression and no feeling haunts her

She looks upon lovers and feels the nagging in her soul

The need for two hearts as one plagues her

 

There is no escape to this unending pain

Frigid is the breath and heart of the beauty

Under key and lock her soul suffocates

Her body cannot break and cannot parish

 

Stuck in the endless grasps of time

A bystander of the mortal battles

Lessons learned and forgotten

Disregard for the sacredness of a life

 

For her nothing is certain in this world of the living lost

Mortals become corrupt in their way of existence

Plant and animal live and die flesh becoming soil

Pages of books and painting both age and tare

 

Although the rose withers with the change of time she does not

An ageless beauty hard forgotten in the mind of the mortal

Memory of her existence floats away with the spirits of those gone

The corporeal coil has no grasp on her though she wishes so

 

A mortal’s heart beats, it pumps blood

Yet no blood flows through her veins

She craves the taste of warm crimson

She drinks to live yet dies with each drink

 

 

Past actions of luring the childlike haunts her

Mortal lives ended as sudden as the flame of a candle

Watching the flicker of existence in frightened eyes die

The regrets gnaw at her stomach and tear at her soul

 

Immortality sought after like a treasure

The mortals know not curse from blessing

Forever living amongst the existence of temporary

Gladly wishing to give her immortality away

 

Mortals remember what should be and forget what shouldn’t

They see only what their allotted lifespan allows them to see

They have their beginning and end, their birth and death

They live not after their last gasp of air or walk after laid to rest

 

 

 

How does she fit into a world that measures life by time

When she knows not the meaning of years and moments

Celebration starts with another years ending and beginning

Yet to the ageless, one year and 100 more does not matter

 

 

 

All she has is her ever lasting soul

The enigmatic thoughts in her mind

The craving for sweet crimson

And the shed tears eternally falling

 

Darkness forever shadowing her unending life

Storms plaguing her damned soul

Gloom and dread of a 1,000 more years to come

Watching the last rose fade she the last of her kind

 

Fair is the rose, lost and alone

The rose has no petals left to fall

Still the same ashen skin

As she faces no particular end …. alone