The Rose that Knew no-limits.

As the rose tells me of the struggles it faced, yet succeeded.

The rain dripping, the wind challenging; as she blow’s in the wind,

Her root’s, her family of flowers. never cease development;

always amounting to success, strength. She appears the strongest,

Her root system, strengthens those from “beneath”. and the pedals one day, will reach the heavens.

As a well guided team, under the commandment of the “largest” head of the rose; within the traditional themed garden.

Bringing the less strong up, with nutrition. They’re bringing the ground with the team. Nothing gets left behind. As the ground lift’s,

It spirals with the rooting system attached. The angel’s shine the sun, to lift, the mass of soil.

The ground, shall never be without its beauty. They need one-another, the humbleness of the “grounding”

needs the beauty of the rose garden – they’re as a separate society, within the mass of society.

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The Movie of the Beautiful Eyes

The diamond of the eye sparkles. The sparkles tell a story, of survival, hope…

i watch the show… only to discover, the projection of sparkles, are of a “red” light; transferring to white under-the-surface; The white lighting is of an illusion, what stands below are the fires of hell, lighting a false sense of hope.

As her mind manipulates the fiery lighting i’m in awe; of the angelic eyes i’m witnessing, within my mind, i know it can not continue, it mustn’t, but for now… i’m enjoying the film.

Love Her

She’s the sunlight, the moon and the star’s, too me she’s every kind of beautiful, perspective; complete, together.

She warms alike the sun, casts light in the darkness, and she’s my little star, bringing hope to myself. The mountains ive climbed to see the mix of completness. Was completely worth it, as i watch the scene, im stunned. How is she able?

Walking Down a Lonesome Path.

Walking down a road, within an isolated community; i know it’s for the best. My boots feel heavy, the heaviness weighs me down, I can feel the water splashing from within, i feel blister’s on my feet… The breeze feels cold within my hair, my hair casts to the sides, as her’s would have, memories pop within the mind. And seemingly my boots feel heavier, more full. I notice leaf’s of the trees, they’re ending in their time’s – feeling hopeless. I tell myself it’s for the best. Flower’s are dying, the clouds look full, and needing release – My eyes feel heavy, my soul beat, my face flushed – i don’t cry, i don’t hope anymore, i continue down my path – My energy depleted. I see a car buzz by me in a mocking manner. A white owl, is within the tree taking notice of my struggles. I stop, look towards the bird. another owl goes towards, and sits beside. I figure it’s a female. I pay attention to the colour’s – The feather’s look warm, full. i begin go onwards down my path. I notice the heat coming from towards the home’s and lighting my path, I begin to stumble, my backpack begins to feel more full… more tight around my shoulder’s – i envision her hugging me, like she had… The difference between than and now, is she was intoxicated – i was her drinking buddy, her supplier, rather than a true interest. I understand victory, i understand defeat more so. The houses begin to look, more solid, more beautifully designed in appearance – i figure it’s the sighting of a better community – A better future.

She’s A rose, from the concrete.

A rose grew in concrete, the gentleness of the rose, grew from the hardened environment, withstanding the strength of the ground, its hard tendencies knew no-forgivment; The rose never stopped believing, knew it couldn’t let the rest down, the little rose, was ambitious…. she, struggled but came up on-top. Her hair blows in the wind ever so delicately, her facial movement, original, her nails painted with great taste, her clothing, on-point – Her soul, knows no bounderies, her personality Flourishes – Her beauty, should be an icon, alike the rose….