Friday, May 5, 2017


The gods came down
And smelted roses
From the ashes of my last life
Each one a new life, a new color

Some thorns are better than others
And some fragrances sweeter
Some petals soft
And some petals bitter

Roses must be kept cool to thrive
They cannot toil and sweat
They are wilted by worry and
Carried away by fret

Trouble is not trouble if you behold their
Simple beauty, take it for what it is
And let expectations drift slowly
Out into the black blanket pierced by stars so often called the night sky.
I pick up moons and tides of lives gone by and these ashes make sure to water for all it takes is Dionysus' bulbs carefully placed, to grow new roses for each new day.

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