By Sanchit Mukherjee
When the night was dark, and I couldn’t see,
When the path was gone, and I couldn’t flee,
When the forest beset, and all I could do was grieve,
You’re what I found, what I couldn’t leave.
Ephemeral illusion, eternal salvation,
Hollow though I am, you are my passion.
Black rose, by your boundless river I rest,
Longingly I stare, desires transgressed.
The warm tea now cold to my lips,
For you I have drunk, for you it worships.
They say you are frozen, they say you don’t feel,
They say you break, but you make me heal.
Pearl necklace, your arms around my neck,
As the air betwixt retires, for nothing I reck.
My breath is yours, stolen by your grace,
As I fade into you, forever in your embrace.
A farrago time, an illusioned crime, it ends in a flit,
And so the ember wanes, another soon to be lit.
Tranquilly I have suffered, with peace I am tender,
Black rose, death, to you I surrender.