A beautiful gypsy-girl, named Mary Rose, heard of a legendary treasure, blooming out of the sands in the deserts of Arabia. She ran away from home, as her parents were to sell her to a rich man to marry, but her heart was a stranger to him. So she rode on her camel that had three humps on his back, who knew where the mountain of sand with three peaks was. And she rode there, where the treasure was said to be buried in the sand.
And as she rode under the glorious morning light, the sun shining on her face, kissing the shores of her fair white skin, that was clothed in her golden virgin veils and golden burqa, she saw the Golden Gazelle.
The graceful Golden Gazelle, had two golden crescent curved horns, resembling crescent golden moons, and she had golden eyes. The Golden Gazelle gazed at her, and shed a warm and golden tear from her gilded eyes, and it fell into the golden brown sands of the desert, and the tear bloomed into a golden rose.
The gypsy came off the camel, and stepped carefully towards the golden rose, as the graceful gazelle leaped away, and out of sight, in the gilded mouthscarfs of mist.
And Mary picked the golden rose that bloomed out of the golden sands of the desert, and held the golden rose by the warm gilded stem, but she wondered how this was the golden treasure.
She rode back on her camel to her golden palace, and frustrated and feeling mocked by this golden rose, when she was searching for a hidden golden treasure, she threw the golden rose in her fireplace.
But the fireplace did not burn the rose, or turn it to ash, for the golden rose stayed golden as the unwaning sun. Love is as the sun, unwaning, appears after the reign of tears, and shines warmly upon the skin, just as love washes upon the red shores of the heart, from the lighthouse of the soul.
She saw the golden rose untouched by the fiery dance of the flames, and she put out the fire, picked out the golden rose. And suddenly, as she stared upon the golden rose, a few golden petals fell off the golden rose, and these four warm gilded petals, rose in the sky, out of the window, weaved in the wind, and together transformed into a golden moth, that flew warmly on the pink chrysalis of her lips, and fluttered her warm wings thrice, and painted her pink lips golden.
The golden moth flew off her lips to the rising golden cocoon of dawn, the sun, before it fell, and the golden moth would die.
And Mary saw in the mirror, her warm golden lips, as she touched them.
Any material object she kissed turned to solid gold, and this was the hidden golden treasure she was searching, and had found. But this golden treasure, Mary’s Gold, was a curse, for she could not kiss the one she loved, for her gilded kiss would turn the body of the one she kissed with her warm golden lips to solid gold. She veiled her golden lips behind a black mouthscarf of mist.
