The Man Who Plucked The Rose

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“Well you only need the light when it’s burning low
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow
Only know you love her when you let her go
Only know you’ve been high when you’re feeling low
Only hate the road when you’re missin’ home
Only know you love her when you let her go
And you let her go”
– Passenger “Let Her Go”

* * *

Each step careless, nonchalant
Picks up dust as he goes
Feet weigh heavier than his soul
Soul weighs down his feet
The sun weighs heavier than both
Oppressive with fiery pride
The air solid around him
Wrapping him in too warm an embrace
He wanders this desert wasteland
Sparsely dotted with oases of hope
He wanders this grey wasteland
Searching for an explosion of colour
An anomalous expression of nature
He wanders this endless wasteland
‘Till he stumbles into a meadow
Vibrant with a thousand hues

* * *

“I promise that I know you very well
Your eyes never lie, even if they tell
Sweet lullabies that come with a smell
Of a dozen roses flipping down the green hill”
– Kendrick Lamar “Real”

* * *

He sits at the base of an Iroko
And savours it’s cool eternal shade
The valley beneath overpopulated
Its floor littered with countless petals
From each flower’s ritual ecdysis
The cool permeating his every fibre
Restoring him a sense of tranquillity
Moist red earth beneath him
A petrichor tinged with a pinch of blood
Slowly the idyllic view bores him
He realises he misses the sun
The heat, the travails of journey
One last view as he stands to leave
A flash of brilliant bright red
Slowly The Rose unfurls its petals
Time comes to a momentary pause
A flowery seduction of immortal will
He plucks the rose from its thorny bush
Each prick robbing him of desire
Poisonous Venom like an adrenaline burst
He takes a sniff and gets addicted
Time resumes its indefinite course

* * *

“Runaway, runaway, runaway, runaway
I’m holding on desperately
Runaway, runaway, runaway, runaway
I’m holding on”
– J. Cole “Runaway”

* * *
He wanders this desert wasteland
Missing the rain, the shade, the oases
He wanders this grey wasteland
And wonders if the rose wants the journey
Stops and wonders why he plucked it
He takes another sniff
He wanders this endless wasteland…

From: beastiful.wordpress.com

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