Shadow of the Butterfly Posted September 10, 2004 Report Posted September 10, 2004 Trudging through the city square Heavy armour upon my back I gaze upon the mirrored walls Of the towers standing tall around me Shimmering pools of liquid light Branch out in all directions My lady love lays submerged The breath of life here, but naught My silvered armour weighs me down I fear I cannot reach her in time Her long brown hair floats in waves Around her pale, young face Time has stolen my lady love And it is Time's presence I seek Wretched sobs steal my strength As a figure emerges from the depths Time is no friend to man Robed in depthless white He stoops to touch her lips Our eyes meet My vision blurred by tears With a small, sad smile, Time departs Leaving my lady My love Taking, in return My life
Parmenion Posted September 18, 2004 Report Posted September 18, 2004 The romantic era will never be dead as long as poems like this continue to burst forth from the imagination of our generations. The ultimate sacrafice for the love of another is portrayed rather aptly I think in the age old medieval style fashion. A place in which we romantically believe that self-sacrafice for the greater good of our loved ones or for the protection of our society itself was rampant in contrast with what could be very much perceived as a "me first" philosophy that exists today. How I long for that world which never existed too. Well written. You captured the essence of romanticism here.
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