Fiery Rose
It burns its way out of wood
resembling a fiery rose,
and penetrates the gloom
with gleams and bloom.
It murmurs ceaselessly,
its breath an autumnal aroma,
with the finesse of melancholic nostalgia.
It contemplates constellations,
its eyes a myriad of reflective lanterns.
It rises and rises gallantly
like a summoned Phoenix,
sparkles and sways,
as if in delirium.
Its blaze
an avalanche of petals,
the color of sunset,
the perfume of ethereal catharsis.
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