On a hillside, in a far off land, a seed is planted.
A single seed of a single rose, to push up through
The ground and blossom for all to see.
The food for this rose is the flowing tears of the
King of evermore.
His tears roll down, over his cheeks and down his chin.
They break off and fall to the ground and hit with a crash,
To fertilize this flower.
This flower of remembrance, remembrance of life.
With every tear that falls a memory is created.
A memory of a love he had once known.
She was taken from him in a death so cruel.
His tears continue to flow not hardening his hurt but
Intensifying it.
His spirit stirs above his grove, his love he can no longer
Have.
The flower now in quite full blossom, it stretches
Skyward, and the spirit disappears, for his life has
Become the rose.