Black flowers...

The Black Flowers bloom once held my heart in sway,
Fear of beautiful death and sorrow perverted my mind.
I never dreamed I could be happy, not with so much grief in the world.
So I sat alone, a weeping philosopher with no audience.

But strange things happen on oft occasion,
And we may find ourselves surprised who hears our quiet prayers.
With a few words of compassion, my spirit has grown,
Finding myself on a path to living a true life.

I know I shall not be held aloft by faith forever,
Yet I shall ride this high until the pitiful end.
Fore if we dont enjoy the good times while they last,
Then we are the ones who have forsaken ourselves.

Yes I know this will all end in tears, all good things end far too quickly.
But so do all things bad, it is the nature of time to destroy even death.
So let the Black Flower bloom when it shall, I will not mourn.
Because a flower shall rot, and from it other life may grow.

> Bust