In the concrete of our existence, struggle is the key.
Yet, in this concrete, a Rose Of Flesh emerges.
Fire and rain pulses through our veins.
And life is born.
No gravity as our thoughts race, we wished for time but only found waste.
What always grew, will always find it's way.
Upwards and onwards we arise.
And all of the angels in singing light.
Calling us home.
To the open arms of redemption, we cry.
We are the seeds in the grave, we are the Rose that guides the way.
If you find Me in the silence, we will stay.
Beautiful.
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