The White Rose

The white rose is but one colour, beauty and charm is captured in every petal. Rose? what do you think of this world, are you ever sad?
I gaze at a single white rise and I see It's outer petals pushed outward and decayed. White rose why are you so hurt? Is this what the world is like?
An inner compassion burns with in me for the broken white rose. My hands reach down to caress the sorrowful rose, the white rose seems to bend down to reach my sympathetic,tender hands.
As I surge forward to further caress the dying with rose, my finger is pricked on one of it's sharp barbaric thorns.
As I pull away, blood trickles on the petals giving the white rose life.
White rose what have we done to your beauty? Do you still love?
In a single last exhausted effort, the white rose blooms to full splendour and grace, reaching for comfort, reaching for love.
In that instant , dark, swirling clouds covers the skies, putting a blanket of misery over the white rose, making the rose seem black and void of life.
White rose why so cold? Do you feel love?
The haunting black clouds quickly disperse, leaving the white rose barren, naked, nowhere to turn.
As I reach to hold the forsaken white rose, that the world has turned away from, exiled in the dark.
All goes deadly silent as I gaze at the poor white rose, bent motionlessly to the wet, cold ground.
White rose do you love?
Why are you left to die in pain?
White rose who are you, who are you?
In the last desperate final words of a dying white rose it speaks.
Sir,  you asked me who I am, and why do I love?
You showed me love. Sir I am you.

Andy Wilden 19/8/1991

Tags: sad, love, anger, dark, abstract,