Eternal Flame

The morning began with a bloom of gold,

Stretching across the horizon’s palm,

Each ray a careful hand, lifting shadows,

Brushing dew like a delicate artist,

The world awoke, caught in quiet reverie.

A single rose stood near the forest’s edge,

Its petals blushed with a fiery hue,

As if it had captured the dawn’s first light,

Cradling the heavens in velvet folds—

A secret held close, unspoken yet seen.

But then—

The light bent, spilling in fractured streams,

The rose gleamed, a prism of untamed color,

Its stillness rippling, as though it breathed,

And all at once, it seemed to whisper—no, sing,

A hymn to the timeless dance of life.

I stood there, caught in its radiant hymn,

Feeling both small and infinite within,

For even in stillness, it moved the soul,

Its roots binding the earth to the sky,

Its flame a reminder that beauty endures