Scarlet-tangerine abound the light of perfection,
grasp me and my distractable attention,
authoring I to let myself fly freely from whim and affliction.
Seeing, as I ought, a sense of pain or reduction,
immovable loyalty and ostensible sensibility.
The sweeping tide and I wave toward embodiment,
aligning a chipper lunacy,
like Saturday cartoons to a child,
whilst rhyme and tone sail foresight unto the past, and across the sea.
Wherein my mind,
We kiss.
Rudiment like nature indoctrinates us,
as we love under the moonlight.
The stride of our lust aside,
I will never know a better mind,
to which my graces lips reside.
I, turning the wheel, steal a just metaphor from my quip.
I never slip, lull or tip the scales of must,
to which is why I can know her love to be true.
She is a virtue, as I am a promise.
And though finite we are within the space and time we find ourselves living,
love has never felt more meaningful, or infinite.
About the Creator
S R Gurney
25.
Graduate. Author. Director.
Inspirer to noone.
Compulsive Hypochondriac.
Elusive Dreamer.
Thought Hallucinator.
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I Before Me, Except After Be
I am, though not now, as I was, sat looking over slimed frogs, in their pools of pond, hopping and jumping and living as they see fit. I hear softly birds chime from afar as creaking branches and sodden leaves in squidgy mud remind me peacefully, as I might add, of the gracious satisfaction that life gives to us in its finest decor. Time and myself roll by like the wind, as I toil between picking up irksome litter and avoiding uninvited dangers. When, and to my surprise, a three-legged rodent, scurrying out of the browned waters leaving its tail in tow, pursues life as it is and how it always has. Having noticed that I am there, it darts steadfast out of sight, through nettles and other living leaves, and so I know why he runs. As I have done before from the overwhelming existence of higher power, disbelief and conflict, too tiny to comprehend an eclectic universe full of unknown wonder and splendour. While back in my place, I look out over my beautiful brook and smile contentedly at the glistening drops of moisture hanging to the brook like the hand of a small girl crossing a busy road with her mother, and it knows not why I too am scared of it. Resplendent magnificence ensconces me and my fellow dark oak trees, and form a tranquil getaway for an eye-baller with too much to require. In a sense, like I had expressed to be free, I know my weakness stems from purpose. Which is how I came to know. Just as life knew too, I am here to observe, as well as life of me. Ascending through the exploration of limitless discord uniformity, where sentience derives, past any evolution, as much from action as from word. An infinite loop entangling creation and definition into a singular explanation, that is true for its time and already outdated by an incremental velocity of discovery.
By S R Gurney7 years ago in Poets
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