Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Black Roses

Suddenly, the leaden clouds grow still and the storm freezes mid-strike.
My thoughts stop scattering and I can hear black ink-filled roses bloom in my heart.

 I wonder: is their darkness beautiful or hideous?
 But it doesn't matter, because no matter what - I want to pick up a brush and trace the unwrapping of watery petals, turbulent ink blots, rainbows of black streaks, drowning, unquenchable.

 Life is but the interplay of water and black ink. Cherish the chaos.

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