He thought he understood what the rose was. What it meant. Here is yes He knew, maybe, but he didn't understand. He knows that now. Here is you may It's a small square of black dirt, fenced off perfunctorily by velvet ropes, and a single rose growing straight towards the sky, and a single blossom, pink shading to deep rich crimson. Here is the good turn It's love, it's life, it's the White and the Eld and the nursery-kingdom of All-Aglow, it is the glowing gold nexus of everything in all the worlds and it's singing a low constant song that hums in his bones. It sings in his father's voice, his mother's, Roland's and Vannay's and Lilly's and Cort's and more and more, the voices of the loved and lost. the fortunate meeting And what it sings is the fever that broke just before dawn (yes) and left your blood calm is Here is the wish that came true (always) and the understanding eye is Here is the kindness you were given and thus learned to pass on (here there is peace) Here is the sanity and clarity you thought were lost is Here there is forgiveness (now you may rest) Here the world is quiet is every good deed, every right answer, every right choice, every risk that turned out for the best and every unacknowledged kindness and every chance meeting and saved life through a hundred thousand generations of history. Every storm that passed, every shelter that stood strong, every lullaby and every embrace and every whispered heart-warming word. Here everything is all right His eyes are wet, and when he blinks the tears back with a wide wondering smile, it's only so that he can drink in the sight without blurred vision.
Here is yes
He knew, maybe, but he didn't understand. He knows that now.
Here is you may
It's a small square of black dirt, fenced off perfunctorily by velvet ropes, and a single rose growing straight towards the sky, and a single blossom, pink shading to deep rich crimson.
Here is the good turn
It's love, it's life, it's the White and the Eld and the nursery-kingdom of All-Aglow, it is the glowing gold nexus of everything in all the worlds and it's singing a low constant song that hums in his bones. It sings in his father's voice, his mother's, Roland's and Vannay's and Lilly's and Cort's and more and more, the voices of the loved and lost.
the fortunate meeting
And what it sings is
the fever that broke just before dawn
(yes)
and left your blood calm
is
Here is the wish that came true
(always)
and the understanding eye
is
Here is the kindness you were given and thus learned to pass on
(here there is peace)
Here is the sanity and clarity you thought were lost
is
Here there is forgiveness
(now you may rest)
Here the world is quiet
is every good deed, every right answer, every right choice, every risk that turned out for the best and every unacknowledged kindness and every chance meeting and saved life through a hundred thousand generations of history. Every storm that passed, every shelter that stood strong, every lullaby and every embrace and every whispered heart-warming word.
Here everything is all right
His eyes are wet, and when he blinks the tears back with a wide wondering smile, it's only so that he can drink in the sight without blurred vision.
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