|
By coujeaux Date: 2004 Jan 05 Comment on this Work [[2004.01.05.14.31.19320]] |
|
'Twas insistent nudge of lunar beams that wished to peek upon her dreams; she refused to yield, Pleading by lighting her delicate face, but she turned away in disgrace, using her arm as a shield. She had like begged upon a lad to give her every wish he had so she grant them to win his heart, And his laughing, harsh retort was final blow to her patience, so short; self-confidence torn apart. She left the scene of the crime saying all she needed was time; there must be one she could woo, Even if she had to scour world around she swore to find the promised ground held her one so true. Most wounded are gentlest touchers, so I hear, but never fear, for as cycles the day you will know, That within each of us is a capacity to fall then arise to embrace the regenesis of our loving, aglow. Feel you so small compared to solarist majesty, yet it is chained by forces far greater to so return, It but takes the tiniest touch of something warm, unexpected to reignite what made you once burn. Unforgiving is the chasmic solitary of the lonliest; they gaze nightskies to see but blacklit expanse, While ignoring that reflective and optimistic beckonshrine where the hopeful pray for just a chance. I remember a place held in innocence, where as a child I looked high in wonderment, not despair, Gazing at a circular, solitary sentinel that shared this enlightenment that followed me everywhere. Tried every trick to hide but it never let me slide; like a conscience dogged, stubborn as could be, Until one day I finally knew it wasn't that shine I outgrew, but the beliefs I once carried within me. Throw your desires upon a star, as each twinkle to say here we are; they the many, what of one? Calling come back, blushing maid before my realizations fade and our moon gives way to the sun. |