In the middle of nowhere Rose was born very weak ... just and could give life, they bear the icy winter winds. He was born in a place where the spring barely touch the ground. After a couple of winters, proud, caring for her little button, a beautiful ebony button. spring arrives and finally blossomed, slowly opening its petals, black as the terrible darkness.
The rose was strange the heat of the sun's rays, was born in the icy depths of the night, his soul was a stormy, starless sky ...
Those who come to it feel the cold around your environment, your face is cold like oblivion, in the blackness of its petals lose many souls, their dark out moans and sobs.
In spring, the rose looks at the sky, then falls in love with a star and remains so beautifully pensive and sad until dusk, when the pain of his spirit shades and look at the top of clarity and calm .
Someone cut roses, white roses, red roses and far away, in the most arid, go to the black rose, goes to her, and turns around, cut the other roses ... "While there are roses ..." he thinks.
Go the distance to the black rose its thorns but not forgive, comes and goes and Fly the black rose as mobs of black pain butterflies.
Winter came and stripped the trees. Froze the winds that reached the black rose.
The icy wind carries their whispers, her voice seems weak to pronounce words of love do not come from his lips and laughs that brighten your soul. The cold wind hurts your black petals one by one they fall, mingling with the air of winter ... and yet another winter resistant.
The winter gives way to a new spring. Many have stopped at the darkness of their petals, waiting for a ray of light arise within them. They wanted to see it shining and lost in time.
After a long winter finally died, alone, without anyone to share her perfume, no one contemplated the nostalgic merry dark.
Nobody knew he had a heart that never questioned him ..
(do not know the author)
0 comments:
Post a Comment