Waking at Sunset
A vibrant blonde reflects all the sun’s glory
I dare not gaze upon it, for my eyes cannot bare
To be rendered blind; that’s no way to begin a story.
Then all her splendor and beauty, I could not share.
I could not share the gratitude she has to and for others.
Placing all hearts above hers, one can only gleam
To know they were chosen, by God, to be her brother.
It’s known, though, that tears store up, ripping her seams.
But even still, now, I consider this a heart captured
By a tantalizing smell and love piercing eyes.
My sole path to escape is none other than the Rapture,
Where I hope to leave this world of hate and muffled cries.
But I digress. I find, once again, the sun sets in the west.
Where poisoned skies and convolute clouds leave radiant tracks
Of the heavens gone ablaze.
Beneath the set sun and flaming blanket: a vibrant blonde.
She stares, awe inspired from a bench on a hill,
Defining beauty and not even knowing it.
There, and in that moment, she finds no way for a heart to stray,
And God’s holy presence seems, to this born-again mind,
Infinite.
Now, she’s found lying in her bed,
Legs sprawled in awkward position.
Her nightmares or, just maybe this time, her dreams
Keep her eyes closed but body in constant motion.
But it’s that resilient moment when she wakes up that disturbs her.
When she’s all but convinced that her sin and habit curbs her.
This day will live on and so will she, in a flurry of love and grace.
And I’ll be there with her following His slow and steady pace.
...veritas et caritas...
I dare not gaze upon it, for my eyes cannot bare
To be rendered blind; that’s no way to begin a story.
Then all her splendor and beauty, I could not share.
I could not share the gratitude she has to and for others.
Placing all hearts above hers, one can only gleam
To know they were chosen, by God, to be her brother.
It’s known, though, that tears store up, ripping her seams.
But even still, now, I consider this a heart captured
By a tantalizing smell and love piercing eyes.
My sole path to escape is none other than the Rapture,
Where I hope to leave this world of hate and muffled cries.
But I digress. I find, once again, the sun sets in the west.
Where poisoned skies and convolute clouds leave radiant tracks
Of the heavens gone ablaze.
Beneath the set sun and flaming blanket: a vibrant blonde.
She stares, awe inspired from a bench on a hill,
Defining beauty and not even knowing it.
There, and in that moment, she finds no way for a heart to stray,
And God’s holy presence seems, to this born-again mind,
Infinite.
Now, she’s found lying in her bed,
Legs sprawled in awkward position.
Her nightmares or, just maybe this time, her dreams
Keep her eyes closed but body in constant motion.
But it’s that resilient moment when she wakes up that disturbs her.
When she’s all but convinced that her sin and habit curbs her.
This day will live on and so will she, in a flurry of love and grace.
And I’ll be there with her following His slow and steady pace.
...veritas et caritas...