Roses of Eternal Flame

In the beginning, red roses bloomed,
Their thorns a hymn, their scent a vow,
Love inexorably came about,
Spreading like fire from the inside out.

The sky was high and blue?
A bent absurdity.
Love begged, yet spread with no manual—
A seed planted where no hand could reach,
Grown in places time cannot reclaim.

These roses of eternal flame,
They burnt me down to ash,
Whispering your memory through the ashes.

Thought I found that height, on some cloud you spun,
Felt like I was free, thought my race had run.
The rose’s thorn stills the pain it knew—
Its roots dig deep, unyielding and true.

This cage with roots too deep,
For nothing left to feed.

Now cold winds cut through the air,
Cupid STANDS—on point of no return!
He SWEARS with solemn, ancient grace:
"Love is both eternal and a fleeting spark."