Hanging on the spider silk of hope that you will return, the rose blossomed, and I assure you
that I have not witnessed a beauty such as that rose in the whole spectrum of what the world
offered. Leaving the mist of promises, the petals put forth its unearthly beauty, a beauty you
have sown. But alas! What have you, but to leave behind the dreariest of prospects?! In
the sun that previously gave light, now sent the rays of scorching heat. The flourishes of the
island turned, from that moment on, to stokes for fire, burned crisp in the glaring yearning.
The palms, the pomegranates, the peach tree under which we took our holy oath, all withered.
But none could express the ineffable sorrow that took place on the rose, the flower from Eden.
Its leaves faltered and gave way, the stems cracked, and the petals, O, the petals of such
magnificence, shriveled, crumpling, crumbling. Oh, not even the event of the crucifixion could
have had a more divine destruction of beauty! No thunder could produce a greater sound than
of that sound to which the sky divided. No furnace could melt and weld again the broken heart
of that Wilde’s prince. Under the very sky that we have seen the stars sprinkle their mirth upon
the ocean, I screamed of fury where the most magnificent beauty had to die in my bosom.
O how they all fell, as Lucifer fell, the flames! The Swords! The troops of the providence
instantaneously losing its wings. Have you seen, have you, in the remains of the path of moral
you have left, the night of my sky ablaze with falling angels? The bountiful ocean, that have
caressed the so many hidden islands of my comfort, vaporizing under the incinerating heat of
hell, have you felt? And in the midst of all, the one rose you have left to wither and die, craving
for the tiniest proof of affection, evidence of your return, the now fleeting memory of times past.
When dawn finally arrived, for she had to retrace her steps ever so frequently at the horror
of the event in her coming, the barrenness finally revealed its uncanny form beneath her light,
around the black soot of the rose whose seed you planted. When dawn knelt beside the soot
of fragrance, she found, as the princess bride also found, that there was the difference between
being mostly dead and all dead. And because it was the former that ena