Amiss: the times forgotten; bestowed, a dark longing for power. Dried, empty and desolate. The past, a prelude of what is to come.

Desolation is misery's friend. But, the sun rises once more, as always. Complete, soft, warm; dependable, trusting, forgiving.

The light shines bright upon the horizon; and the subtle ache of needing more mires the necessity to beget what is wrought with strife and pale ignorance.

The red rose strives on, besieging my mind with agonizing desire to seed dissonance. Such kindness resonates within me. And the humble tone of honesty cascades a purer meaning.

She eludes me.

Paths cross but once in our lifetime. The choice is there, but the strength is not. The consequences are dire, rich with hate and loss and fear. The outcome? Always unknown.

The rewards? Eternal.