my dear.
this is just the way it is
the way it must be
he said.
and I wept and beat
myself blue
with fists like
wild horses.
he said,
my dear
my doe
my soft bed of leaves
and of dry crumbling things
let me tell you the tale
of autumn, of the golden sphinx,
why we bring her golden worship.
she has taught us
that the will to live is bound
so closely to the love of death.
and if you do not believe me
then tell me,
is there anything more beautiful
than a wounded bird
in that small space between
stillness and
breathing?
oh my dear,
my fawn
of immeasurable sorrow,
this mystery is nothing
compared with mine,
for
did i ever tell you
that my love for you
pounds
all life into fine
coloured dust?
and my love for you
is born a thousand,
dies a thousand deaths
each time
you open your
sleepy hollow eyes?
Comments
ahhh
so tender
very beautiful
Utterly stunning in both dialogue and theme…love this Alondra
Sandra x
Enchanting…
xMx
The thin line between the betwixt and the being in the now is how this first settled upon my thoughts.
The tenderness is palpable and connects me to preciousness of a full moment of rich awareness.
Beautiful. Mortality, the perfect spice for love.
my soft bed of leaves
and of dry crumbling things
These were the lines that hooked me in here for some reason. This felt like the spirit of a pagan druid explaining the godliness of his love. Great write
wonderful work !!
and of dry crumbling things" it stirs something in me…Ellanita
This is so beautiful.. from your heart, obviously.. from a deeper knowledge where some of us never venture.. love these words of the inner being..