Soft winds carass the dew blessed blades of grass.
Makes the tree leaves shudder with every touch.
Brushes the dirt aside like a mischivious child.
Dances upon the field of roses.
That is ontop of a hill, gracing the land.
With its gentle beauty and elegance.
Red roses...the symbol of a burning passion
White roses...a tribute of an pure innocence.
Yellow...the promise of joy...
My eyes drink in the beauty of the field.
Color flushes to my cheeks in rapture.
A smile spreads across my face.
My feet move on account of their own.
Making crunching noises among the green grass.
Where the fallen children of the trees lay.
Rose petals tickle my face as I sink into their enchantment.
Their smiling faces fill my vision like a delicious addiction.
Their sweet sweet smell entices me to an almost sleep.
Like a mother's lullaby...
"Sleep...sleep..." they whisper in a singsong voice.
I fall deeper and deeper into the singing voice of the roses.
Drowning in a sea of petals of wonder and beauty.
Until something catches my eye.
A lone rose isolated from the beautiful roses.
Its leaves as green as the others.
As lovely as the other sweet smelling roses.
Yet I fear it.
I cringed back with a wary stare at that rose.
I sink into the satin petals, hoping for protection.
A beautiful black rose.
My eyes search and search for another.
Searching among the rose field.
Yet I find none.
Its the only black rose in the field.
I grow curious and make my way to it.
Ignoring the pleas of the other roses, I walk towards it.
Its black petals are wonderfully soft.
Finer than any silk in the world...
Yet crystal tears run down its petal.
Dripping down onto the ground.
It looks so forlorn...so lonely...
"I cry...I cry because I am a black rose, I am not the evil of the world..."
That whisper waltzes into my ears like a pretty dance.
Making my eyes grow wider and wider.
With realization and shock.
Poor little black rose...
Not the evil of the world...
Not the evil of the universe...
Its the greed and ambition that can never be satisfied.
Of the creatures that are called man.
The ones who walk the earth in a loud and boastful nature.
Poor little rose.
Not the evil of the world.
Not the evil of the universe.
But man's unsatisfied greed and ambition.
Their dark indulges that can harm creatures of nature...
Nymphs, unicorns, foxes, and other children of earth.
Their sorrow is engraved in the black roses' teardrops.
The horrors of human nature tinted its petals.
To a pitch black without a light.
Poor little black rose...
I feel your sorrow...
I feel your lonliness...
The beautiful black rose.
In the middle of the rose field.
Alone and forgotten.
Tis the dark nature of man.
Whose greed cannot be satisfied.
That keep it so.
Forever a black rose.
Forever alone and sad.