The edge of nothing is sharp as a blade.
Honed by the journey and mistakes I've made.
Creeping behind me from cradle to grave.
Seeking the passage to wisdom.
Whispers of ghost drift on an uneasy wind.
Chilling the air with a gaze from no friend.
Cuts through the soul exposing the sin.
Committed while chasing the devil.
Hoping my next mistake bring to a close.
The quest I followed that darkened my soul
Arriving to late to save the black rose.
Or even a chance to see one.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well hello there stranger. It's good to see you posting again. I love the imagery that the black rose suggests...both seductively beautiful and deadly as the sin we seek redemption from.