His laugh reveals no anguish, his feats of amusement cover his doubts. To the weary world a welcome relief, yet for himself there is none. By day he dances circles round the others, by night he longs to live in a world of his creation.

His tears well hidden under the mask of his expected role. Fate intervenes, as was the case here, and a lone tear escapes to dash across the petal of one lone, rare rose. His tear of sorrow, becomes its nutrient, its lifeblood. Each day his tear nourishes the rose until such time as the rose blooms on its own, at long last providing him with the bridge to his fantastic world filled with creativity, happiness and love.

No longer did the Jester shed his tears of pain and sorrow. And the rose, now strong enough, was able to bloom over and over, serving as his inspiration. His mask gone for good, the Jester shed one last tear, a tear of joy, transforming the rose into his dark-haired Raven, whose blue eyes would never shed a tear, but see only the beauty of the Jester’s fantastic world. Their love as unique and rare as a rose.

Ó  Rose Limongi 2004