The Magic Rose
Many, many years ago, in a sad faraway land, there was an enormous mountain made of rough, black stone. At sunset, on the top of the mountain, a magic rose blossomed every night that made whoever plucked it immortal. But no one dared go near it, because its thorns were full of poison. Men talked amongst themselves about their fear of death and pain, but never about the promise of eternal life. And everyday the rose wilted unable to bequeath its gift to anyone...forgotten and lost at the top of that cold, dark mountain, forever alone, until the end of time.
Many, many years ago, in a sad faraway land, there was an enormous mountain made of rough, black stone. At sunset, on the top of the mountain, a magic rose blossomed every night that made whoever plucked it immortal. But no one dared go near it, because its thorns were full of poison. Men talked amongst themselves about their fear of death and pain, but never about the promise of eternal life. And everyday the rose wilted unable to bequeath its gift to anyone...forgotten and lost at the top of that cold, dark mountain, forever alone, until the end of time.
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