The most present rose
Is the most important rose,
For the present rose stands tall
I find myself dreaming
Of this prest rose,
For there is a truth that unveils its beauty
What flawless love travails
When the conscience has its depth?
And truth comes in various forms
Between the petals, come what may
And I have achieved stardom
At a young age,
The rose and I.
And if you find this to be peculiar
Let the rose speak for itself...
For I vanish at the thought of losing you
Shadow for shadow, depth for depth
And the tides speak on their own
As the petals cleave
To my own generosity,
Behold...
The sparrow and the tides collide
What is upon a rose that is fair?
For a rose by any other flower
Bares its name,
Oh shallow hearts despair...what shallow presence indeed
As truth bleeds through such gentle thorns
The world sees this present rose
For what it is
And truly, most truly
I must apologize
For the most prest rose is sacred
Leave me alone in its confidence
In pressed white sheets;
A sliver of a finger
Gentle to the touch,
Have I bared my death alone?