Prose from a Rose

🌹 Genesis

#prose.from.a.rose.: - TWENTY-ONE

Consecrate my dead body so my fingertips may touch the silver lining that outlines the nine clouds of Heaven.
What strange thing is friendship, though I have a few, all words always seem so menial, like pointless, vanishing dew.
I feel so unique and rare like I'm like no-one else, and I know that I'm not, but at the same time there are others whose hearts lay in their mind's eye; diamond-shaped.

How long did it take for the universe to come up with all of our stories?
What a foolish question I ask, it took the only time it could and has been taking; infinity.
But what was my genesis, all of my past, it was, I can figure that out piece by piece.
But I care not for my mortal genesis for it would almost be sinful to place value upon it.

I'd rather wonder about my future genesis, my entrance into the afterlife.
Like how I said I liked to forward-reminisce on all the mountains that almost bend down to greet me with snow-toothed smiles.
I see madness in their darkened eyes, but what is reality if not touched by the very fantasy we pull from it with our human hands?
To unravel this mystery I must unravel the many chapters of my life, however many God chooses to give me.
God my king, whom I worship, the beginner of everything.
What loneliness it would be with a black, starless void,
he must make us perfect beings who still wield free will to be his lovely companions in a paradise,
but we must learn,
for what good is a utopia when the minds of those who live within it are as dull as shade?

Will you really have the audacity to call me lazy for not reading other stories but writing mine instead? They are but pieces like gemstone ores growing from stone crevices, only pieces of the bigger terrain.

Oh the scheming boy curses my curiosity but fails to take accountability for his secrecy he likes to flash like the grand gold crown of a king, that flashes and glows for brief moments like lightning from the mirror's best friend.
I fear Pandora was my sister in that sense, all we seek is knowledge, that's why we're here on earth anyway, to learn from Eve's mistake that was also Adam's.

I know that Jericho will bring about the genesis of my immortal soul, that seeks to tread on the same iridescent, mercurial liquid I imagine my sister to tread upon.
Oh, God, I see your wise, giving me an angel in the skies to live like a saint for.
To meet with someone I never got a chance to know, a girl I never knew.

And the humans that guide me here
hold my hand and point to a star they think is near,
tell me to touch it fast while threatening to slit my throat.
But I wish to extend my mortality.
These defections are just conditions of what's meant to be,
so leave me, and let patience take you home.
I hope my urgency
that you want so badly
finds you well.
But I must run on this wheel
all by myself.

I appreciate your help,
and I say I don't fear death,
but how do i really know
anything at all?
Of course I fear death.

The past is the shadow that falls behind us,
and the future is the sun our burning eyes look into
and when there is a solar eclipse
we cry and stomp our feet, stabbing grounds of concrete, snow, sand or grass and yelling obscenities, expletives down to the echoing hells, remembering the earth's lava core.
Like angry toddlers, hurt.
And I want no more love, it grows my heart, fills my well with water, so give me your faces of stoicism, content, zen, serene expressions.

It is with a state as blank as the morning sky we will float across the sea with more destiny Ophelia ever held in her wretched melancholy heart, with keys in the palms of our hands and penny-studded eyes of bronze.
Bronze that mimics the brown of our eyes,
the brown dirt of all lies,
but the gleam of the truth
when the sun comes down to shine upon it.

Oh blazing hell-hot sun,
make my grave glow!
Because my mortal death is my true genesis!