Pictorial Prose

Pictorial Prose
Indulging my most lucid daydreams

Saturday, August 31, 2013

...to wake unto your arms.

Speak not my heart of loves demise,
heavens gift I hold inside.

I stood atop the mountain,
I shouted out your name,

I walked along the ridge
knowing so much would
be gained.

Time try to rob us,
to steal from us the days,
but forever is not a promise
it is how our love is saved.

I felt the fury of  the mighty wind,
brushed against me touched within.
Revealed that nothing can rule,
only time and distance will be
the fool.

Repetition was the game,
the visions always the same.
I saw you coyly sitting there,
a blissful moment that we
once shared.
You cannot touch a heart without finding in return
 a love so wonderful that in the soul it burns.


Life is but many beginnings and endings.


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