...The rose at the top of the mountain...

Many many years ago... in a sad, far away land...
there was an enormous mountain made of rough black stones...
At sunset, on top of that mountain a magical rose blossomed every night...
that made whoever plucked it immortal...
But no one dared to go near it because its thorns were full of poison...
Men talked amongst themselves about their fear of...
Death 'n' Pain 'n' Suffering...
but never about the promise of eternal life!

And everyday the rose wilted…
unable to bequeath its gift to anyone...
forgotten 'n' lost at the top of that dark 'n' cold mountain...
... forever alone until the end of time.

The rose is visible only to those who know where to look at...
May you have the eyes to see that rose… ‘n’ the courage to pluck it!