The Rose of Resonance

By Julie Makhoul

She stands where galaxies entwine, 

A prism cloaked in moonlit vine.

Her heart a portal shaped by flame, 

Her voice - the echo stars proclaim.

The night bends gently at her gaze, 

Her body sculpted from glass and praise.

Each panel sings of mystic birth, 

Each color carved from sacred earth.

A horse gallops through her regal fold, 

Bearing tales both fierce and bold.

Pink roses rise in hush and bloom, 

She breathes and lifts them past their tomb.

Behind her, music climbs the air, 

A treble clef, a dream laid bare.

She is the score, the soul, the swell 

A goddess where the wild things dwell.

Crescent moon upon her brow, 

The world kneels softly to her vow.

She does not reign — she resurrects, 

In petals, notes, and light-reflects.

By Julie Makhoul