Return of the Prince of Roses

Soft hillside
dug out of fire

Misty march of foliage,
      tangled in the valley

Autumnal incense scattered
   like rain
 by the evening hearth

A thousand branches withstand
   the Dawn,
 splinters of shadow
 scattered on the meadow
the smell of fresh-cut lawn

Horses gallop over the
 hard, brown Earth

The children's tents are
all painted in blood

Young men prepare for battle,
 their muscles weary from
chopping wood

Our city's daughters tend
  to the warm garden,
    the climate of hope


The Ivy ran up steep
walls of concrete,
disclosing patterns in her hair,
conciliating the waters

When I reached yonder
    shore, full of weeping
    for the children displaced
    by silence,
        all was well in the Forest

    A hundred flames lit the Autumn
      branch, the secret dance of
      time, who says so much
      and knows so little

Cattle grazing in the Noonday
    sun
    that brings slaughter
      at evening
  Feel the moon fold into shadows

    the Flower Prince's return,
      the beaming smiles
      flash of crimson + steel
           ----------------
      the heart betrayed its last
      exhausted pump

Decked out in flowers,
  the old man's yard reminds
 me of something lost

The Flower of Love

The flower of love
  brings us together
as her thorns
  tear our patience raw

Who can describe this
  beating heart?
The warm blood that runs
  in rivulets like wine,

the celestial pull that
  unites weary souls
amidst the daily chaos,

  the swelling desire, cloaked
in generations' sanctity,
  forgiving eternal bonds
in a sacred fire that
  cannot be extinguished.