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The Volumes

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The brilliance of her enigma was everywhere,
From the pedestal on which she stood,
Her heart hid from the multitude,
Even her placid mystery she declined to share,
Upon her soul a foreign language reigned,
Upon her heart lay the melancholy haze,
What magic could parallel an entity so rare,
In her eyes there sat a beautiful confusion,
Through her heart dreams lost their way,
To sleep in her midst I did not dare,
The preservation of love, of need, of want,
Rests with the permeation of her obstinacy,
Bereft of knowing, we were a lost pair,
She was, as she had always been, pure,
My love was, as it needed to be, strong,
To be hers took the utmost care,
Here was the path to happiness,
Lying in the palm of her hand,
From her grip I could not hope to tear,
Never the truth did she release to me,
Never in her heart could I fully lay,
Could I even hope to see what was there,
Through bold stare alone, I plead my case,
Only oblivion did I see in her eyes,
Sweet ignorance was mine to bear,
Was she to love, or even capable of,
Was I to be nigh desire,
Or would solitude simply linger there,
In the light of her soul I trapped myself,
In the dark of her heart I found no rest,
Who said perception between hearts was unfair?





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Kaavon said...
Apr. 14, 2010 at 10:26 am
 a total brainiack
 
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