The Rose & The Warrior Queen

A maiden of fair beauty,
born against the backdrop of enchanted purity,
as a budding rose of velveteen white,
with milky complexion and azure sight,
brought forth into a soiled realm,
rife with pain upon its helm.
And as her eyes fall upon
such a world of avarice and lust,
her heart gently falters,
and crumbles to dust,
to swirls about her
in a shimmering haze,
while crimson tears melt
upon her pain stricken face.
And from purity's grasp
of celestial white,
the budding rose blossoms
into the love of a scarlet stained night.
A maiden no more,
bound in innocent bliss,
a part of her lost,
blown away on the mist.
Rising up in her place,
to stand tall and proud,
a warrior queen walks forth
to bring to the crowd,
no violence, no hate,
no misery condoned,
instead with open arms,
a love compassionately intoned,
to speak to their anger,
buried deep within fame,
to speak to their sadness,
hidden beneath the rubble of shame.
To offer each soul peace,
her only bequest,
and help them rise beyond the pain,
at her gentle behest.

But as stories unfold,
so shall this too,
for the crowds in their blind fury,
could not see through,
their pain and their anger
bound within shame,
wild as the feral heart,
that can not be tamed.
And as violence erupts,
love's gentle rose falls to the ground,
torn asunder by a blood-stained lands thorns,
leaving behind no echoing sound.

The world stands silent,
holding a breath of collective grief,
for what was lost, unrealized,
stolen away by the hands of a thief,
themselves in shame,
feral hearts without name,
their gentle queen no more,
for she is the crumpled rose,
which lays before them,
alone on the floor.

And from the ashes of death,
an unforeseen need can arise,
to plant the seed of her heart,
and take root in surprise,
and one day come again,
to offer up love's purest prize.

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Sometimes when we are blind, we do not see the love that is offered to us without condition or expectation. And sometimes we must falter and stumble, and finally fall to our knees in our own grief, before we realize our own mistakes. So, do not stay blind to the love that envelopes this world. It is there, for those in deepest need. All you have to do is open your eyes and see it there.

Namaste
Misuchi