David Madore's WebLog: Gratuitous Literary Fragment #129 (three roses)

Three roses were marked on the Sigil. Three roses I was to seek.

The first grew on the lonely grave of Hölderlin overlooking the Neckar. Its scent has the sweetness of Erato's kiss mingled with the sorrow of unrequited love. Water and Earth are its elements. Many a soldier died while defending its purity; many a young girl saw its hue in a dream; and many a thumb was pricked on its thorn. This is the rose of happy days and forlorn hopes at once; it is the rose that lives beyond the night. Cherish it, the Oracle told me, for this rose is your ally.

The second was a present from the emperor of China to a foreign ambassador. Its colour is the dazzling brightness of the sun seen by the eyes of Leonardo. Air and Fire are its elements. It has but a single thorn, and that thorn is poisonous as a serpent's tooth. This is the rose of wisdom and folly; it is the rose that dies in flames. Respect it, the Oracle told me, for this rose is your master.

The third was lit by seven stars and surrounded by seven stones on a clear spring night. It has no thorns, for it needs no thorn. It is watered by tears and blood, and Evil cannot touch it: only a butterfly has drunk from it. No man has ever seen it, yet all know of it, for it is the rose of Time. Fear it, the Oracle told me, for this rose is your doom.