Thy Rose

Thy Rose

 

Thy rose is like my soul.

Sometimes music feeds my soul.

Missing the city, but feeling pretty nice.

But looking into the day & night sky.

Just looking down towards someone’s eyes.

Feeling like I don’t need to frown.

And not having all those cries in my eyes.

 

Thy rose.

Likely, the rose is some kind of a goal.

A hundred times I think that I am an illusion.

Reality and fantasy it’s just a fusion.

 

Love is Everything.

Time is Unity.

Death is Purity.

 

A dove has to bring a red rose.

That thy Mighty King has chose.

Beneath the atmosphere. Which did not decompose.

The dove wings are broken so it needs climb. To a different purity.

Where the King is near.

Which I will not fear.

That I can fly in the sky, with thy rose.

-D.J.T. 3.25.17!

This poem is about: 
Me

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