A layer of hidden thorns that lay concealed under a draping skirt of blood roses.
It’s quite a simple thing, yet equally breathtaking. How fascinating, no?
First grow the thorns that can pierce into this delicate skin. Then comes the birth of the tiniest of buds… taking their time to arise into beautiful blushing petals.
Oh, those gorgeous petals. Ever wonder how they manage to float amongst the blowing breeze, and dazzle under the lamp-post’s beaming light?
As the glowing nightlight illuminates the bush of garden roses, the green and grey moths are instinctively drawn from their old oak tree home towards the warming light.
They arrive towards the artificial sunlight as it were a call. A call set for the unveiling of the Ball of the Moths. A mingling for the little wings that flap as silently as the moon, turning into a passionate waltz that occurs once the sky turns into a darkened blue.
It’s a spectacle that the rarest of eyes get to see. It’s quite exhilarating to be one of them, isn’t it?
The metamorphosis that turns this silent garden into an alluring phenomenon is beyond oneself. It is a nature-bound story that is left untouched by the human hand.
A story that retells the beauty that resides under a draping of skirt of blood roses. And a story that is kept protected by a layer of hidden thorns.