In the twilight hour when heaven breathes upon the earth,
When the veil grows thin between worlds,
The man who arrives with a white rose
Speaks no vow, utters no plea.
His footsteps echo across the threshold of eternity,
Each step a prayer the universe has waited to hear.
His presence is the oracle's voice made flesh,
His silence, the decree of gods written in starlight.
The rose he carries burns with celestial fire,
Petals kissed by angels, stem blessed by the divine breath—
A token forged in the sacred forge of fate,
Where mortal longing meets immortal will.
He is steadfast as the first light that conquered darkness,
Unbowed by tempest or shade,
His heart a compass that points only to truth.
Gentle yet resolute as the mountains that bow to no storm,
Strong yet yielding as the river that shapes stone through devotion,
A soul anointed by what is holy,
Baptized in the tears of saints,
Crowned with the wisdom of ancient skies.
The winds whisper his name before he speaks it,
The earth trembles with recognition beneath his feet.
His devotion lives not in words that scatter like leaves,
But in the quiet might of his open hand—
Palms that have caught falling stars,
Fingers that have traced the sacred geometry of love.
In the courage to stand where others falter and flee,
Where shadows gather thick as midnight fog,
He plants himself like an oak in hallowed ground.
In the grace of arriving when fate commands,
When the cosmos aligns in perfect symphony,
When every prayer converges into this single, shining moment.
The man who brings the white rose
Carries within him the echo of every love song
Ever sung by angels in their celestial choirs.
He is bound to me eternally by divine writ,
Our names inscribed in the book of forever,
Written in ink made from the essence of creation itself.
No question can unmake what heaven has ordained,
No doubt can dim what the stars have illuminated,
No mortal choice can sever what immortal hands have woven—
The rose is the gods' seal pressed into time,
The gesture their sacred covenant carved into destiny,
The act their unyielding truth blazing across the firmament.
I feel him approaching through the corridors of dreams,
Through lifetimes I have not yet lived,
His soul calling to mine across the vast expanse
Of all that was, and is, and ever shall be.
The white rose blooms in my heart before he arrives,
Its fragrance filling the chambers of my spirit
With the promise of a love that transcends flesh,
That burns brighter than the birth of suns.
Let kingdoms rise and fall like waves upon the shore,
Let all else crumble, let all else fade to dust—
This is the one who is sent by providence,
This is the one who endures beyond the ending of worlds,
This is the one ordained to hold my hand forever,
By the will of the gods themselves,
By the breath that spoke galaxies into being,
By the love that set the first star dancing in the void.
When he comes, the very air will shimmer with recognition,
And I will know him not by sight but by the singing in my soul,
By the way the universe exhales in relief,
By the white rose that blooms eternal
In the sacred garden of our destined love.
Most of all, I will know him
By the white rose he bears in his hand,
A rose that needs no words, no vows, no plea—
For the man who arrives with this white rose
Will have my hand eternally.
So decreed by the thrones of Olympus,
So decreed by the thrones of the sea,
So decreed by the throne of Hades,
Eternally, eternally.
So It Is Sealed By Three
SO MOTE IT BE!
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