cryptomancer Posted August 30, 2004 Report Posted August 30, 2004 Is it I that bleeds upon my fingers? Is this the blood of my own heart that leaks to stain The ground on which my trembling knees fall? What is it that drives me to attempt The rescue of my life, as from my heart it dissipates? Or do I hold the falling tears of your pain? The blood shed for me against the stone of my hidden face? Did I turn from you? Did we part by agreement? Do we both in the pain of separation struggle to hold inside All that in our love was realized? All that may never be? Though both see otherwise; Or is that just the smoke of dreams? Where is the embrace we shared? Would it dress these wounds? Would it renew?
cryptomancer Posted August 30, 2004 Author Report Posted August 30, 2004 My fingers rest in the fidgeting caress upon the cold metal of a charm. Pendant of dreams, the imitation of one lost. I touch the tear in the metal plating, the raw wound Cut by my own hand, removing part of its whole. I still have the fragment, locked inside a place of safety. It stays untouched, unrefined. The charm I molded, Giving it the appearance of another, Giving it shape that mimics something more pure, Deeper, stronger, True.
cryptomancer Posted August 30, 2004 Author Report Posted August 30, 2004 Playing time upon itself, stealing seconds to spend in the embrace Of you, your touch, your kiss. Placing the seconds of sanctuary in the company of a beauty, Touching the distance of our world, through the dance Of seconds across my day. Feeling the sand of years, through my fingers slip away. Holding onto the mist of wished moments, Walking the beaches, staring at the stars, Knowing you did the same. Playing time upon itself, We both look at the place where the other should be Wishing time would coincide again.
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