By: Lady Nyx
When the Bloom is Off the
Rose
I walked beyond My rooms today, And in My garden, made My way. It's walled-in
terrace views a star, The lovely city known as Ar. And centered there, in
splendor grows a bush which bears a single
rose. Whose fragile face follows one, That splendid golden Gorean
sun.
As I inhaled its fragrance deep, Its
petals opening from sleep, I thought as how that bloom could beSo much like One
who is FC. Who in her many layered clothes of petals soft, just like My robes,
Open only to that One Who nourished Her, that golden sun.
That blazing sun Who travels high in glorious arc across the sky, Who with His
warmth, caused Her to bloom, To reach forth from the shadowed gloom. And though
it's sweet, that courting cry, As We all know, time passes by. What happens
then, do You suppose When the bloom is off the rose?
For it's a fact in Gorean life, Though You're His FC, You're His wife, That
light of His, Your strength and power, Touch other gardens, other flowers. And buds more fresh, still touched by dew Will bloom
and grow, as once did You. For there are highs and there are lows, Too soon, the
bloom comes off the rose.
I gazed upon that rose so white, Now in full bloom and filled with light. And suddenly, a
single tear rolled down My cheek, for what I fear. That I, like she, will brown
and die, And still, that Sun will
rule the sky. Yet, something dies, and something grows. When the bloom is off
the rose.