Black Rose's Morning

Heavy clouds in the early sky. The silent whistles of the little flyers. The mist wind embracing skin. Where oh where have the sunshine gone to? To a thousand hidings of a visible place. She could not go anywhere and she should not hide no more.

This air; it’s graceful. So wonderful, cool and heart-warming. No pressure, no tense, no heat. Windy, silent and swift. Who knows where it has travelled to but I, I, know the touch even if my skin is burnt. It’s my friend. It often makes me sing of the past, takes me back to the places that I’ve been before. It takes a part of me with- to fly, to sing and to cry. Cry not for the sadness but the joy because it happened. It won’t let me forget but remember. Takes, takes me way up high! Don’t fall-never. Slick, smooth, thrust. And I go and go and go.

It curls me in the arms of my childhood. Soft, hardly touch, goes through the outer layer. Like a friend- a long lost friend. It’s not everyday that we cross paths but intervene when destined. Chill, melancholy, like how the ocean touches the sand. Seconds it will last and we part. Exchange of memories to be repeated, repeat and remembered.

The heart whimps, where is the sun? To see it rises before it falls. To feel the heat before the moon takes over. Don’t like the sweats, hate the sweats. B e just, be just! Share and shift of night and day. Do not conquer, do not greed. Manners, manners! Is it holiday already? No, no, don’t go away. Shine me well while the morning drops stay on me. Let it glides and shows sparkles. And bloom, bloom, and grow. To serve, to give, to care. Find a smile behind the frowns. Crack a laugh besides the tears. Search the peace underneath one’s anger. Pulling wisdom after stupidity. But, I can’t. Not without the sun. The air is my friend but the sun gives me something else. I miss the clear blue sky, appealing big clouds and the hot light. Yes, they do burn. But I don’t. I won’t.

This is a norm morning for the Black Rose. Sad, sad, yes. But no room for tears. Look at another way, oh yes, you will. You will see another sun. It’s warm, it’s kind and spreads out happiness. There’s the wind but a Black Rose has its own sun. Oh yes it does, we do.

When the sun is hiding and the clouds are heavy, that is the Black Rose’s morning.

-BLACK ROSE-