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Feb 2015
A soul left in darkness' wake can yet again be freed
For there's always a crown hidden behind the color of fire
And this fire can always warm a heart so cold
And yet smirks on burning time's tested and tempted dreams
To provide a sweet, yet bitter taste of love's own mercy

A gracious fall is love, the last denominator always is pain
And the pain is often greater than the love itself
At its shores there is hope, then the full and blue moons, light and bright sparks in stars
And within this hope, lie the wishes and dreams of the fallen few
Dormant as the saffron in the rocks, hushed as the silence in the glaciers

For a sinner's love is his love to sin
For a saint, it's the best sermon that life's seen
The rose slowly chokes under the gaze of discontent
Charming as a black rose, a woeful soul now begins
Entwining into the lovelorn chains of thorns, white lilies altered to red


Now as a feather falls to crush a heart
A speck of sand ending this meteoric blast
With the soul now resting in the darkness once again
The rose breathes a silent whisper and disappears into the air
Molding to be the enigma a lover beholds

The kaleidoscopic perfection of the faucets in life
To contradict the evils that is ever present in our hearts

© 2005
Neal Emanuelson
Written by
Neal Emanuelson  Amsterdam, Netherlands
(Amsterdam, Netherlands)   
847
   B and Ariel Baptista
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