I’m sorry for the way I said it It didn’t come out as intended You’ve taught me love should be so tender And selfless and true I wrote a story have you read it I saw some pages had been torn out The strangest part about all of it Is that I wrote that for you And the worst part of this whole ordeal Is how you looked through me Like I did not exist This lovers quarrel, it quickly turns inside out Insists each verse means the opposite But the patterns still persist A reflection I must have missed You have long been my Beatrice Since my childhood, to my dying bed From one dimension to the next Scrawling in ancient text My loves lyrical incest, in line after line I stress that Each syllable breeds the next Connecting the dots I left, for myself to reconstruct The foundation built upon, A concept I’ve only dreamt But never entered in So it begins, The rain and the wind Every perspective a potential gift From the black magic alchemists To the mystics on mountain tops I had a vision of, what this life could hold for us I wanted to see ahead, So I walked a backward path Drew circles, 9 plus 1 Indulgence in anything, is a way to indoctrinate The self that was slowly made, Inside a sphere right behind the gate You must pace yourself Ascend, and return yourself to the state of urgency and prominence, The reoccurring seriousness Dominates my minds domain, The substance a homage payed A spiritually dormant weight was lifted from my pen I started over again, this time with an enlightened sense The darker the undertones, The more light I shed on them The essence so absolute, I promised my soul to it And this is how it read….. An encounter with love insists that Each lyric triumph the next In honor of a spirit I Awakened and caught my eye All of this laughter leads to bliss which I’ve recently learned Rules with an iron fist, A heart wrenching turn of consciousness Led me from line to line Divine splendor does truly exist Each chapter that follows reveals us this But now out of context My vision has been skewed Maybe I should have tried to write a letter Instead of this novel or A poem that transcends all 20th century disputes Of what it means to be an author, of Tragic encounters, to tell tales of how love can move mountains The louder I sing then the tighter this ring on my finger becomes Bound together forever our eyes fixed above Celestial beings reveal the birthplace of us Fire and light rose up and out of our tomb A Traveller to the edge of the world from the womb Together, Until we reach Empyrean And find out what lies beyond
Posted on: Fri, 31 Jan 2014 17:58:59 +0000
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