(no subject)
This poem was begun in a good mood and ended in..well...many things. Under the cut still. Constructive criticism will be very much appreciated. So will gummy bears.
The moon croons to me-
Sometimes I wish to speak with him
When all the other aspiring lights have gone away
His slivers of silver play through my window
I am caught in between:
Sleep who treads on his own promises
Who would lure my Palinurus
To drag him to the deep
But still that would not be an easy rest-
(Besides, the moon shuns me at best)
And moonlight who sings to me of
The awake, but courts this nightly love
Of all the mistakes I have already made
And those I still dream to take
In the conscious mind that hears all
Who are astray, begs for the silence
Of the long-lost prayers
I had failed to say-
Wishes me Goodnight, goodnight
Before the clock strikes midnight,
And I must face you again
But I turn away from him slightly,
The path to the middle opens up to me
It was as it had always been-
Lingering between dusk and light
The shallow and the deep,
For though Phoebus has departed
And languor flows through his golden veins
My mind has dragged me only half
The night-lit streets I need to walk,
Half the saltine seas I must sail
Crumbling, crashing, I flail in this plight
That pushes me to see you again.
But is that not what resurrection means?
Standing in the half-light-
There is the sad purgatory we must
Endure, in the lonely hours of this
Half-truth, half-sigh-
In this a world so full of moonlit dreams,
In this a dance so full of tugs-of-war
I struggle to win, sailing on my bed
These are the thoughts that
Beg to be crooned and said
To waiting ears not yet found
My soul begs and begs not to see you again
But this is what it means to Sleep:
To forego all that tears the human soul apart
And burns its fringes into the night
Though tears may scatter like shrapnel
When you say you despise me too
The lost path continues, would not be stopped
No matter that to speak to you
Would be the death of my heart
So this is what it means to Live:
To gather the pieces and hold them tight
Against a heart of night,
For there is no love greater than this,
That a woman would lay down her
Own pride for a friend
And in the dawn that would not be stopped
She hopes to God her sleep was enough
To comfort the demons who in her soul stay
With each miniscule second that eats
Her fragile, dumbfounded sanity away
And so this is what it means to Live:
That I would lay myself down
And face you again.
The moon croons to me-
Sometimes I wish to speak with him
When all the other aspiring lights have gone away
His slivers of silver play through my window
I am caught in between:
Sleep who treads on his own promises
Who would lure my Palinurus
To drag him to the deep
But still that would not be an easy rest-
(Besides, the moon shuns me at best)
And moonlight who sings to me of
The awake, but courts this nightly love
Of all the mistakes I have already made
And those I still dream to take
In the conscious mind that hears all
Who are astray, begs for the silence
Of the long-lost prayers
I had failed to say-
Wishes me Goodnight, goodnight
Before the clock strikes midnight,
And I must face you again
But I turn away from him slightly,
The path to the middle opens up to me
It was as it had always been-
Lingering between dusk and light
The shallow and the deep,
For though Phoebus has departed
And languor flows through his golden veins
My mind has dragged me only half
The night-lit streets I need to walk,
Half the saltine seas I must sail
Crumbling, crashing, I flail in this plight
That pushes me to see you again.
But is that not what resurrection means?
Standing in the half-light-
There is the sad purgatory we must
Endure, in the lonely hours of this
Half-truth, half-sigh-
In this a world so full of moonlit dreams,
In this a dance so full of tugs-of-war
I struggle to win, sailing on my bed
These are the thoughts that
Beg to be crooned and said
To waiting ears not yet found
My soul begs and begs not to see you again
But this is what it means to Sleep:
To forego all that tears the human soul apart
And burns its fringes into the night
Though tears may scatter like shrapnel
When you say you despise me too
The lost path continues, would not be stopped
No matter that to speak to you
Would be the death of my heart
So this is what it means to Live:
To gather the pieces and hold them tight
Against a heart of night,
For there is no love greater than this,
That a woman would lay down her
Own pride for a friend
And in the dawn that would not be stopped
She hopes to God her sleep was enough
To comfort the demons who in her soul stay
With each miniscule second that eats
Her fragile, dumbfounded sanity away
And so this is what it means to Live:
That I would lay myself down
And face you again.