Broken, Still Beautiful

BROKEN, STILL BEAUTIFUL

Her walls looked down on the tower of Babel,

It's stone was iron core,

The barrier that fortified her wounded heart,

The holy Grail would sooner be in his grasp, than the butterfly come to rest upon his open palm,

Yet, untill the sun rest it's weary light, and the moon bid all goodnight,

There stood a soul, with the patience of the stars, and a heart as open as the sky,

Who would never go away,

He had only room, for one within his eyes,

She was the perfect flower to the honey bee,

Even with it's wayward pedals,

She was the first breath of a newborn child, even though the wind was stale,

She was the forever love, even though it was locked away,

But, if the wall was, the all of her he'd ever have, then, it's the wall he would embrace,

For him it was as a foggy day, with a canopy of clouds, as he entered the head of a labrynth, toward a lightless path,

Where he would be barefoot, treading on broken glass, feeling his way along thistle laden walls,

But with closed eyes, he could see in vivid form, what awaited him, on the other side,

So, with all the love he had to give, he stepped painfully, and touched torturously, to show her a world, she had never known,

Slowly the shards of glass became cotton beneath his feet, and the thistles fell away,

The canopy of clouds fell as cooling rain,

The fog lifted, and the sun shined,

The wall, then lay neatly upon the ground,

As a walkway, leading into the garden of her arms,

Where he lay gazing into her glowing eyes,

As she gazes deep into the eyes of the fairy tale, and the dream,

That she now knows, to be real!