The Plight of an Echoing Whisper

“When the last colored petal from the rose doth fall and the rose gives its last Aethereal-Breath of Life. The rose remains a rose. When the wind carries the sigh of grief from the exhalation of a tiring day the morning will still come again. When the pride goeth before the fall and all seems lost to the weary mind, the heart shall continue beating to the rhythm of an ancient love. When the cheeks are dry and the eyes feel heavy, and the tears of letting go dampen the skin, there will for you -I promise this- return the smile once again. When the road to the long-goal won seems barren, and the quieted heart feels all alone: go barefoot in reason, for hope is born… lest you step on the stem of a fallen rose, and find the scorn of a prickly thorn.”