After this
humble anchorite
was washed ashore
upon a rosy dawn..
He blindly stumbled
until dusk..
until he chanced
upon a forest.
And what did
his blinded eye
observe..
growing upon
the fertile
forest floor?

Beneath
the branches
of a mighty oak..
In crimson shimmer
of a blood red moon..
he saw The Rose,
a budding beauty..
not quite yet in bloom.
And though he couldn’t
justify it with a formal proof..
He knew that she was
unlike any other rose..
she was indeed,
none other than..
The Third Muse.

No matter
from what angle
he would try
to pick her by
the stem..
he felt the prickle
of her thorns..
the smell of blood
was in the air.
In sheer exasperation
of his weakest moment
he exclaimed:
“I’ll find a flower
not as thorny
which will love me
better!”

He roamed The Earth
for many days in search
of such a flower..
yet he couldn’t
force himself
to just forget her.
He longed so dearly
for her scent..
the way their minds
would help each other
ponder in attempts
to understand..
the way her presence
filled his life
with strength and purpose..

She offered him
The All he ever dreamed of..
yet, now he desired
more than this?
Perhaps for truest love
he didn’t yet develop
strength of heart..
and so he kneeled..
and prayed and weeped
and mumbled..
to seek counsel
with Almighty God.

The God Almighty
spoke to him
and gave His order
not to roam..
but rather to return
and give her that
which she was always
worthy of..
A proper home.

A space where
she is loved
for who she is.
And when this hermit
laid his blinded eyes
on her again,
she was a blooming flower..
and the thought of being
her most loyal and devout
protector..
offered him the deepest bliss.
Whatever parts of her
felt previously prickly
now felt tickly,
and no other pair of lips..
could ever hope
to taste as sweet to him
within a kiss.