The Black Rose

Her ornate magician’s garb,
Amethyst petals in the wind.
With every breeze,
Xanthous and violaceous ribbons
Streak the ether.
Her presence surreal, a gossamer phantasm.
Slackly, but purposeful.
Omniscient of shadowed magicks.
Mysterious as the shrouded arcane,
And deception abundant.

The Black Rose shall bloom once more.
How quickly the end is nigh,
One lucent moment, transforms the timeline.
Here in a flash, gone without a trace.
As light fades from eyes…
Leisurely she strolls the dim corridors,
Aware of all, and all are unaware.
Wisps of beguiling umbra encase her movement,
As the vague glow of azure crystals in her staff
Guide the way to her bounty.

Rounding the corner lingeringly,
With the cool touch of the walls,
The assassin waits in silence,
Eager to strike.
Her oblivious bounty, like a pearl mouse
Peeking from the wild undergrowth;
Helpless when the swift raven swoops.
In a heartbeat, she lunges.
Lightning as she runs her target through,
And a scarlet moment later, evanescent.
“Classic misdirection.”