The Rebirth of Beauty
A rose peals amidst a gloomy fog.
The fall of rosy red peddles guided down
streams of tears, dyed red with blood.
Separated peddles wish to amalgamate again.
A naked stem full of thorns, beneath the moons loom.
A rose once crowned with a red flourishing
bulb of pulchritude. Lugubrious peddles blown
in the fierce balmy winds. Staining the air with
vibrant red notes of sadness. Spread
abroad this torn beauty, drifting in the balmy winds.
The arid autumn leaves becalm the rose
peddles and says, true beauty is the rebirth of beauty lost
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