Iron rose … Once she was a caterpillar who consumed but leaves. Bumbling about life, praying to make it to tomorrow. She hummed a song of trust that did not need words. Instinctively knowing that the universe would give her strength to make it to see tomorrow’s day. … When the time came, she made her cocoon out of silk. Building her home under the ghost of a rose. Here she lay in her state of metamorphosis. Body decomposing as silk petals wilted. … Flesh fading as the color turned to grey. Every night she would prey. Body vulnerable, displayed naked before the world. With but the thorns of her rose protector as her sword and shield… she would be victorious. … Her she would make her most magickal transformation of all. Wings bent and stiff, drying from abuse. Blooming forth, with colors of vibrancy. A beauty so bright that God himself cried upon sight. … Rising form the dead, the goddess did not wilt, nor crumble. Alive with an appetite and hunger for life… she took a moment to breath. The iron rose that protected her from harm now set her free. Wings stretched out with pride and dignity… the queen took to the sky. … Sometimes she would return to her favorite garden, to sip nectar from his sweet embrace. Giving thanks to the iron rose who had provided safety during her time of growth. Yet she was no longer bound to his cage, and she would always fly free. Knowing that no force in the universe could clip her wings. … Not even God can stop her now. -Soren Johnsen |
