The Forgotten Prayer

Roses are dead
In ashes sprung anew
A transmutation
Demands the residue

A blood-red rose
Now cast into the flame
Unrepressed by alchemy
In ash petals remain

Amid the hearth
Not a gift or a word
The disciple does deserve
From his faith deferred

This skeptic guest
Seeks pure restoration
He craves the miraculous
A bizarre starvation

Paracelsus
Alone left to imbue
Believes beyond his request
Violets stay true.

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