Hello, my name is Rose. Sometimes I write things, but inspiration is a bit fickle. Feedback is welcome. Appreciate ya.
I remember a house
A dark, small house,
not yet a home.
Walls of white:
a desolate tundra,
Distant as the gray moon.
I will always fear that emptiness,
The sterility and smell of dust.
The muffled, breathless silence.
Solace lies without;
Under the warm sun in its azure sky,
Amongst the weeds and wildflowers.
Hope lies within me,
In tiny strains of music.
Songs so sweetly sung....
Those harmonies swell,
Spreading sunlight into my depths,
White walls now cast with a golden luster.
The gleam grows brighter
As the darkest night ends
And I am born anew, untouched by shadow.
Somehow, they have vanished:
The loneliness, the sorrow.
The life of duty and old blood.
Only clean blankness remains,
A fresh slate borne of ash;
Like a plain of untouched snow.
My skin falls away,
The mask of contrition dissolves,
My eyes banish the murky twilight...
And the world, in its endless majesty, glows.