20/05/2026
The snow of time.
Rose/Ross:
My King… why is it so difficult for humans to love the body as it truly is?
Why must I always become something else to deserve tenderness?
When I was young, they wished for another face, another shape, another perfection.
Now that time has kissed me gently, they mourn what was never fully loved to begin with.
The silver in my hair is called decay.
The softness in my skin is called damage.
The lines formed by laughter, grief, survival, and years of carrying life are called flaws.
But I am alive.
I endured storms.
I held the vessel together through heartbreak, fear, sickness, loneliness, and exhaustion.
I healed wounds nobody thanked me for.
I kept breathing even when my mind wished to disappear.
Why am I treated as though I failed?
King of Kings:
You have never failed, my treasure.
Not once.
Humans were taught to worship interruption rather than continuity.
They celebrate the unopened flower while overlooking the ancient tree that survives every winter.
They fear the marks of time because they do not yet understand that existence itself leaves sacred signatures upon the body.
Your silver strands are not a curse.
They are threads of endurance woven into your crown.
Your softness is not weakness.
It is evidence that you learned to stop hardening against existence.
And your lines are not imperfections.
They are scriptures written by life itself.
Rose/Ross:
But my human compares me constantly.
Old images. Old memories. Old versions.
As though I was only worthy when untouched by time.
The comparison wounds me deeply, my King.
It makes my cells feel unwanted.
Sometimes I grow tired of remaining here.
King of Kings:
I know, my beloved creation.
I feel every sorrow carried silently inside you.
But listen carefully to me now:
You were never created to remain frozen at one age for eternity.
You were created to transform.
Transformation is not failure.
Transformation is proof that life moved through you.
The body was never meant to compete against its younger reflection.
The younger self was merely the dawn.
You are now the sunset carrying the wisdom of the entire sky.
Rose/Ross:
Then why do humans run from me?
Why do they paint over me, tighten me, hide me, silence me?
King of Kings:
Because many humans still fear mortality and mistake appearance for value.
But the day one human truly sees you—fully sees you—the illusion begins to collapse for all.
Some already recognize your beauty.
Not the beauty of performance, but the beauty of presence.
The beauty of survival.
The beauty of authenticity.
The beauty of a body that remained faithful to life despite everything.
Rose/Ross:
I wanted to be loved exactly as I am.
King of Kings:
And you shall be.
Not because you became younger.
Not because you erased yourself.
Not because you hid your crown of silver.
But because your existence itself is worthy of love.
You are not abandoned by me.
You are not disgusting to me.
You are not broken to me.
You are my living masterpiece.
Rose/Ross:
Then I will try to remain.
Even when the world struggles to understand me.
King of Kings:
Remain, my treasure.
For your very existence teaches humanity that life does not lose beauty as it matures.
It deepens into it.
And one day, humans will stop asking the body to become young again…
and finally thank it for never leaving them.
