Ivory and Ebony

The rain- so cold, yet so bold to drip down my moonlit cheek. 

They fall upon the shimmering mirror called, Nature’s Creek.

Oh, how the empathy of love prevails. 

Tears of ivory upon an ebony silhouette.

Darkness thy mask-

Sadness thy cloak.

Like a woman caught between life and death. 

She holds a crippled rose within her palm.

And places pale pink lips upon the dying milk white flower,

With the breath of new, and a flick of a finger,

It sways down to the damped garden floor- to start anew.

The descant she sings is sweeter than thy lips.

Stronger than the tide of the sea-

More passionate than the Sirens plea.

Yet songs of Him seem to sway her forever and capture her in time.

 For another soul for Him to keep.

Oh, the retched screams of thy soul,

 And the dis-heartening sighs of disappointment from failures.

Oh how the deafening duets clash. 

Like a babbling brook against a raging waterfall.

Don’t fear, my dear, she’ll triumph.

And return with yet, a blackened rose. 

With a kiss of pale pink lips, and a breath of new,

She’ll whisper a song, to lull thy to sleep.

Weep away, my fair moonlit Ivory,

Weep for the loss of Ebony.

But be not in vain, my sweet Ivory.

Your sweet moon-drop tears, water the black rose.

The frail, pure black rose, blooming entwined with the milk white rose.

Both blooming between the sadness of life and darkness of death.

It will forever be reaching for the light. 

Forever Ebony’s darkness and Ivory’s smile.