I suppose, I was never the root of everything
There’s no golden women in silver mirrors
It was all in my mind, that smooth paradise
Where I loved life more than I knew how to show
And calling down the long echoes
Of the longest sleep, I existed with struggle
My time-travelling was imperfect
My heart knew not how to open
I suppose, I walked a lot of paths alone
And my dreams became my last illusions
Because they were all that I had left
I had no music, only stray words
Accounts of creatures that had impressed me
Planets, suns, bathed in the futurity
If Reality is the beginning not the end
I never walked into that universe
Where everything was new again
My haunted hope was never incarnated
My slow motion moments never felt pure
Like an evening that evokes a violet ray
I was the last white light of something inside of me
That wanted to escape how notes fell in August
The harvest days were coming, and I was
More in need of angels than ever.
I guess the world is more in need of angels than ever but sometimes perhaps even just fleetingly we can just be the angels we were meant to be
I’ve missed you and your beautifully stunning poetry! This is amazing!
Aw, it means a lot to me you saying that.
my pleasure.
It is good to see you back after a long time ❤
keep writing, my words will be insufficient to show how magically it works on me. It is always delight to read your words. ❤❤❤
Thanks a lot Yamini, it’s fun to write so I don’t see us stopping anytime soon, do you?
surely not 🙂