The Spider and the Rose

Much was lost from those days of old
But such is the way in times of war.
Lives and art, all demised
Though some in memory did survive.

Fragments that stay in a corner of the mind
that will never live for one more time
The cycle ends where it began
And that is how the curse does stand.

The Spider and the Rose are relics of old
They remind me when I shone like gold.
And inspire that I may begin anew
With the wisdom bestowed from the death of a girl.