Surrender to the Rosebud

My soul is wrenched from its cavern
of despair.

My tears flow like sanguined pools
of rosebud clusters.

Each bloom yawns, then opens,
surrendering to the warm,
liquid, golden light
from Apollo's harp.

the day surrenders to Selene's blanket
of dusk
as she chariots across the sky.

Each bloom yawns, then closes,
surrendering to Persephone's
dark embrace.

So it is, my soul,
surrender to the Fates
who forever guard the sands of time.

Surrender to the rosebud.

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