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The Fragility of the Rosetree

Picture you will a perfect scene

A cobblestone pathway and twisted tree

Think upon redemption for which it brings

To endless torment and those redeemed

Picture you must a desert land

The bleakest expanse of orange and tans

Upon which a flower so fragile demands

Speak to me often and reach out thy hand

Ask as thou might what vision implied

Conceals such sorrow and solitude and strife

To end in such radiant, ecstactic delight

Then picture you will a perfect scene

Of endless soft whispers of lovers unseen

And though thorns are wicked and pierce what they please

My love knows no others than those whom still bleeds

The bravest once a Lord they be

In shadows lurk their victory

The mighty once a God they be

The foolish deem necessity

But fragile is the flower be

In trembling hands I offer thee

For whom amongst the Heavenly

Revile the words I spit at thee

Upon these cobblestones I've seen

A path beneath the moss and leaves

The bloodied footprints haunted thee

To humble, bended knee