The Eye of a Dying Rose

  Collapse inside this silver tomb,
splintered mem'ries and forgotten tune,
the perfumed breath of this dying flower,
cloaks the air in sweetest horror.
  See through the eye of a dying rose,
bloodstained sight upon this frozen world.
What is to be seen, what is to be known
in the eye of a dying rose?
  Knowledge pours like blood from her
petals, truth as tears from her eye.
Only the doves mourn the loss as a
frost lays her to rest.
  Turbulent is her spirit, to rise again
as Aurora takes her throne. The ghost
of this wretched rose, crucified on
crosses of glass, pours out venom from
her broken womb.
  Gaze through the eye, read the future
gore. Alight the rose in fire of the soul,
burn her into ash. And learn what
is not to be learned in the eye of a dying rose.