To Mold the Fire: A Paradelle for the Questioning

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
And the sunlight plays in your golden palm, my love
And the sunlight plays in your golden palm, my love
Of her own accord, no shadow is there concealing you.
Of her own accord, no shadow is there concealing you.
Is there no sunlight in the shadow of your concealing love?
Her golden accord, and my own palm plays you.

A faded flower lives by what other’s memory?
A faded flower lives by what other’s memory?
I will become as they from before my time.
I will become as they from before my time.
As other’s flower, a faded memory lives from before.
By my time, I become what they will.

I ran into the fire that I am trying to escape.
I ran into the fire that I am trying to escape.
But, mind me, you want to fit inside their mold.
But, mind me, you want to fit inside their mold.
Escape trying to mold the fire that ran inside their mind.
I am me, but into you I want to fit.

In to no other’s mold ran the golden memory.
But, before love, time plays her palm that is.
My own mind lives from their concealing you and I as sunlight.
I am the flower of what they want,
Into my accord you escape their fire.
Will I there become a faded me by trying to fit inside your shadow?





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback