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.
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.