Wednesday, July 11, 2007

"Melancholic Stroll"

It was never meant to go this far;
We met upon a beach at night;
While staring at the morning star;
Amidst the crashing waves I saw;
A never ending horizon within my eye;
Then a voice whispered softly to me;
As I studied the motion of the ocean;
And looked as far as I could see;
I did not want to answer to the vulnerability;
Off in the distance was the lighthouse;
It lit the way for ships and men;
I began to walk the sandy beach;
Towards its zen;
I happened not to look back at all:
Hoping the soft voice had gone away;
It had followed in spite of my evasion;
With nothing more to say;
There I sat upon the moor that led the stony path;
To the lighthouse on the peninsula;
Out in the ocean of rath;
The soft voice spoke and then I noticed;
Someone had sat down on the rocks;
However meek with a rosy cheek;
Hair so black with rolling locks;
The eyes were hidden amidst the hair;
There was a hint of a smile;
Time had temporarily been suspended;
In the silence and stillness I sat for the while;
Out in the harbor were the shadows of ships;
Brine permeated the brisk ocean air;
As I watched the breeze blow through her hair;
And noticed the blue eyes with their steel grey stare;
I was taken prisoner in my mind;
Many phases of the moon passed by;
The ocean tides had rolled their way in stride;
Seashells that wash upon the striations;
Evidence that they have died;
There is this feint calling that is within my heart;
It is the voice that beckons from the darkness;
It is the original prison that held me in my mind;
The road that leads from it is my only hope to find;
There is that pulling and tugging thing going on again;
The one I try to avoid each time it comes knocking on my door;
One heart is wounded so that the other may find its way;
I end up leaving one broken rose with nothing more to say;


© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

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