Flowers From the Blind

----------------------------- A Rose by Another Name ----------------------------- In prose, I suppose and even rhymes words, mere words can cut at times. Still I suppose, every word is a rose. At times in rhymes and sometimes prose, though torn by thorns, I still suppose, every word can be a rose. ------------------------- Flowers For the Dead ------------------------- I felt the change within my heart when changes ripped the world apart. The times are strange, some say deranged. Some say every rule has changed. Some make a stage of hate and rage and smash against their self-made cage. Some lose or win by selling sin and some without are trapped within. Some creep in cracks and hide their tracks. Some die in suicide attacks. If there's a hell it's just as well the dead might know but never tell. Aww the changes a death can bring. Perspective changes everything. ---------------------------- A Flower From The Blind ---------------------------- Beyond the curtains of this world, beyond the final page; do actors wait with baited breath? Is all this world a stage? Some say we all come back again until we get it right. I wish there was real proof for this sweet comfort in the night. Beyond the curtains would we see an empty nothingness? Or is it full of love and light? All I can do is guess. I'm finding now that mere words fail in thinking of this night. I'll try to let good cheer prevail while walking in the light. For one fleeting moment I begin to understand. The moment catches hold and leaves a crumpled flower in my hand.