Merlin and the Rose
Merlin was the most powerful magician to live. He found the powers to travel time and space, as if they were playthings.
But his heart was heavy. For love. For fear of power and falling from the Sun, like Icarus.
Merlin is still most powerful of all mages. He lives outside our twenty four hour stories. We move our hearts below the speed of light.
But, the time of the Rose, was still fixed in the books, in the Words, the seconds before everything ended. The end of the universe was about to smile upon us once again. And his last sight was a solitary Rose.
By this time of Merlin’s lives, he had seen all the known worlds and kept himself in a secret cave in the highest mountain, trapped by fear of power and Love. Within the cave, the rooms were limitless. In his house were other mansions. Within those lay hidden the portals to more worlds.
His eyes had seen it all. He no longer tended gardens, as the magic about him caused them to grow whenever he walked by. He shone out a great white light and long since abandoned need of food or of candles or Suns.
But Merlin still loved the Gardens and would often walk there at the very moment it would turn day to night in the real world. The temperature would drop less than a degree and the lights of the mortal world would wane and just begin to hide.
Just at that moment, Merlin would appear in the Garden to view every color Rose he’d ever seen. At the end of the universe, time is slippery. He might have spent seconds or eons walking amongst the rainbow petals before his mind would return.
Merlin knew he would die soon and this became his routine in his very last days. Looking at life and beauty, even if he knew only his heart and magic had created them.
The last day before the candles blew out and Merlin disappeared, to join the brood upon the darkbright waters, he looked to find the most beautiful Rose in all the garden. He’d begged for billions and wanted to see only one as he closed his eyes for the last time.
One flower stood out above the rest. It was brilliant, every color imaginable. It was fire and mirror and showed Merlin beauty in himself he’d long forgotten was real. He became young, then child, then born again.
The last thought to pass through the mage’s mind was to ask why the one stood out so much more than the others. Why was it a mirror to show him everything, as it was meant to be?
It was the last true Flower, alive millions of years by sheer will and love. It blended with billions, yet was the only one growing alone, by itself, with it’s own magic.