THE MIRACLE OF THE ROSE

It is the ultimate bliss to behold
a rose blooming in the sands of time
the moon making waves of splendor
on the crystalline ocean of eternity
as beauty makes footsteps in the quicksand of tidings
at the beginning of the end...
when unquenchable desire burns a soul which churns
as the beauty of longing swirls on its mysterious being
for love at first sight always is
but sleeping hearts open eyes when too late

The wonder of the rose looms
satisfaction wearing it accurately
but onset the golden belt loses waist
and time moves leaving memorable footsteps engraving...
smoldering tattoos on its flawless crimson petals
ripening a fruit yet to be seen
falling its royal petals to be sin
and blindness though allowed is their first sin
whence the flower withers ending the first scene

Soon...
the chuckle of regret lingers
when the eye has nothing to fight its hunger
a withered rose may  not serve its purpose
for silver platters are worthwhile
but with a drying rose on top
it is like a kingdom without a crown
the faithful heart still waits the miracle
the miracle of a fruit the eye will never taste

Lack of faith comforts the blame
as the mouth boasts without shame
the mind can pride itself with fame
as the heart embraces the beauty of the flame
and the eyes can only see the fruit
when the heart boasts the miracle of the rose
that it lost its petals when budding its beauty
to conceive a fruit
after weighty and thorny burden of patience
to create the greatest fruits of all
the forbidden fruit of sleeping hearts...