Who is this beautiful creature?
What is this anonymous being?
Its flawless behavior, its divine beauty.
This creature of gold, its silver linings.
The stories that this being can tell, what a fair, fine quality!
Who is this beautiful nature, this incredible delight power of a course, quiet dream?
A peaceful melody, loud, but silent mesmerizing, tranquilizing, picture of dreams.
Dreams of love, of inner feelings,
These feelings that tell s story that has never been told.
That untold story, it holds a feeling, a being, of a bigger bend, but a smaller fold.
A push and pull.
A bend and fold.
A bend and fold of this beings heart, a heart that has been broken, a heart that has been empty, but still tells a story, that has never been told.
This being is lacking a greater power, a power so bright and bold, its bending in the making, a folding that’s taking my heart away, and turning it to gold.
A push that is forceful, a pull that takes me in.
The being is great, its peaceful, yet loud, very loud melody that takes my mind a float.
It is grieving me, to know who it is, to know that is exists.
It’s the wanting and begging, for my mind’s for telling, that secretly lets me know, that I am here, and it is so bold.
But so beautiful.
Who is this, that entices me to want to know more?
What is this, that it opens me up, to feel and to see, a silver lining of feelings, and a story that was erased.
But that story was brought back, and comes forth, with a masterpiece; a bold and strong standing of a little soldier, that follows its leader.
Who is this beautiful creature?
It is a memory, of a past feeling, a past feeling, that keeps me thinking, of what used to be there.
Of what used to be mine, but now is nowhere.
It is this memory, a fragile line of beauty,
that secretly makes me go nowhere.
Nowhere but here.