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dark, crimson roses speak to me.

clandestine with their whispering words.

conspiring thieves attempting

to swindle precious rubies.

their thorns coil around my ears

bleeding a barbed-wire pain

with their whispering words---

they tell me---

"The cemetery is paradise.

Let's take a walk."

is there a Universe or namely God

that can come between the stem

and the thorn of the rose?

:::

a heart of resiliency

is the offspring

of the actions and sustainment

of hope.

:::

there was an old man

who they called the Quarter Man.

he lived a modest, quiet life

in a small farm house

on the outskirts of town.

he was not a religious man,

nor was he particularly spiritual,

but people admired him.

he was a wise man.

he carried with him, a quarter,

everywhere he went.

people in the town would often seek his advice

or came to him for temporary refuge.

most of them would come to him

with afflictions of the mind---

delusions, fears, worries, grievances, and so on.

each time, he would take a quarter from his pocket

and spin it.

the quarter spun fervorously on its width,

looping around on the surface of the table uncontrollably.

on occasion, it would spin off the table.

the Quarter Man would encourage that person

to spin it again---

until the quarter came to rest on one of its faces.

the Quarter Man would then pinch the quarter

in between his fingertips and explain,

"The width of your thoughts---your feelings,

are small, but you feed them.

Under their centripetal force,

you are spinning.

Your direction---misguided.

Your heart---lost.

Heed to that greater force within yourself.

Trust its gravity will, indeed, return you

to the face of who you truly are."

:::

my heart, embezzled with a white star

encircled in navy blue,

took flight to serve a purpose

greater than my own.

it flew towards an oasis dream,

navigated through electric thunderstorms,

and was greeted with a beautiful sunset.

but this sunset was higher than the horizon...

unreachable to the touch---

yet so warm---so full and encompassing.

my heart had come face-to-face

with the elusive triad---

a magical succession of three.

my heart, embezzled with a white star

encircled in navy blue,

lie dormant on the seabed

of Lady Bermuda's truth.