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the moon and it's roses
there is never a time in the day where the sun doesn't shine. regardless of when it's significant opposite comes around, it shines just to keep us all alive. there is no thought to the moonlight.
the moonlight will shine onto everything and anything, but in reality it's just a projection of the sun's loneliness for a long time.
the sun is alone, yet it still shines.
a garden who isn't the few that do get hit with this saddened light, full of roses and maybe someone who will check on them. maybe we all get lonely, but it shouldn't matter to those who can't seem to care.
to the moon, it's only pretty if it's in a certain phase. besides that, it's just irrelevant besides for pretty photos, pictures, and memories in between. you could say it's just there to be, well, there.
the garden will constantly see the light of day and the cool of the night, but it will never know the difference. roses cannot see, they cannot think, and they cannot hear. it depends on itself to do all those things but it doesn't do them anyway. there is no reason for them to and they are unable to, so what is the point?
a rose does not bleed when it is cut, nor does it sob or cry when it's weeds are pulled. the moon is the one who will be able to sympathize with its small spotlight.
roses aren't human, but their red colors and meaning feel human. it makes people feel human; whatever that means.
the sun won't sympathize either, the two celestials and the garden of roses all have their pain.
a pale hand will always lift up the flower, pulling it out, oh so harshly but in such a gentle manner to anyone else. the only thing a flower can do is die out and wilt soon enough. kind of like humans.
but even then does the pain stop? will it ever stop?
humans can think, see and hear. a flower cannot. a celestial being such as a lonely star or a natural satellite just wanting to drift away from a gravitational force pulling it in constantly are just waiting to collapse on itself so it can finally rest with the worries it will all start again and again.
a human bleeds, and when the hand holds the flower, the only thing it turns into is blood spilling down the wrist. a sense of relief from it is sensed but does it ever stay that way?
humans are able to not pull that flower, and maybe it'll just die to the company of the moon. we all love someone too much to the point where if we loose them we loose a fragment of our soul.
the sun loves the moon, but the moon cannot love the sun without loving itself. the moon will shine onto the roses with the rest of what the sun has to give so that it feels fulfilled.
yet the pale hand won't pull just yet.
the moon and it's roses
the roses letting out blood from it's sharp thorns, just for it to feel some kind of escape before dying.
moonlight shining onto the hand
the roses
the blood
and the fear of having so much else to do
the moon and it's roses.
© zeldah ♡, made with love.
the moonlight will shine onto everything and anything, but in reality it's just a projection of the sun's loneliness for a long time.
the sun is alone, yet it still shines.
a garden who isn't the few that do get hit with this saddened light, full of roses and maybe someone who will check on them. maybe we all get lonely, but it shouldn't matter to those who can't seem to care.
to the moon, it's only pretty if it's in a certain phase. besides that, it's just irrelevant besides for pretty photos, pictures, and memories in between. you could say it's just there to be, well, there.
the garden will constantly see the light of day and the cool of the night, but it will never know the difference. roses cannot see, they cannot think, and they cannot hear. it depends on itself to do all those things but it doesn't do them anyway. there is no reason for them to and they are unable to, so what is the point?
a rose does not bleed when it is cut, nor does it sob or cry when it's weeds are pulled. the moon is the one who will be able to sympathize with its small spotlight.
roses aren't human, but their red colors and meaning feel human. it makes people feel human; whatever that means.
the sun won't sympathize either, the two celestials and the garden of roses all have their pain.
a pale hand will always lift up the flower, pulling it out, oh so harshly but in such a gentle manner to anyone else. the only thing a flower can do is die out and wilt soon enough. kind of like humans.
but even then does the pain stop? will it ever stop?
humans can think, see and hear. a flower cannot. a celestial being such as a lonely star or a natural satellite just wanting to drift away from a gravitational force pulling it in constantly are just waiting to collapse on itself so it can finally rest with the worries it will all start again and again.
a human bleeds, and when the hand holds the flower, the only thing it turns into is blood spilling down the wrist. a sense of relief from it is sensed but does it ever stay that way?
humans are able to not pull that flower, and maybe it'll just die to the company of the moon. we all love someone too much to the point where if we loose them we loose a fragment of our soul.
the sun loves the moon, but the moon cannot love the sun without loving itself. the moon will shine onto the roses with the rest of what the sun has to give so that it feels fulfilled.
yet the pale hand won't pull just yet.
the moon and it's roses
the roses letting out blood from it's sharp thorns, just for it to feel some kind of escape before dying.
moonlight shining onto the hand
the roses
the blood
and the fear of having so much else to do
the moon and it's roses.
© zeldah ♡, made with love.
