The rose behind my head was now completely blackened, the sublime petals having submitted to death and fallen to the world. The golden flower refused to let this be the end, however. The earth that the petals had touched grew upwards, little, midnight blue sprouts of new life marking their graves. It filled me with this feeling, a conflicting emotion of hope and loss, that life may be reborn from this little gift, but there would be none around to see it.