#cosmiclove - Hello Poetry

Like a star shining bright Your voice calls me through infinity Echoes in time Lonely sleepless nights Interstellar Transcending space and time Maybe I’ll see you one day In another time Where we can be together forever Like a voyager travelling at the speed of light Forever searching Crashing into the unknown Slowly dying Binding shadows Chaos unfolds There's no way home Still no sign of your light I'm running out of time Maybe I’ll see you one day In another time Where we can be together forever

0

Feb 24

Feb 24, 2026 at 3:25 PM UTC

Candelo

Interstellar

Like a star shining bright Your voice calls me through infinity Echoes in time Lonely sleepless nights Interstellar Transcending space and time Maybe I’ll see you one day In another time Where we can be together forever Like a voyager travelling at the speed of light Forever searching Crashing into the unknown Slowly dying Binding shadows Chaos unfolds There's no way home Still no sign of your light I'm running out of time Maybe I’ll see you one day In another time Where we can be together forever

21

I sign my name in the margins of extinction— InkWept, disgraced conductor of endings— counting measures with a god’s precision and a human ache I never learned to mute. The cosmos keeps strict time, but you don’t. You arrive off-grid, a syncopation the stars refuse to quantize, and my gavel of silence forgets how to fall. I have written requiems in 7/8, let choirs of dying suns resolve on command, cupped black holes like cymbals and crashed them clean. Still, you teach me tempo— how a breath can hold a fermata without breaking the score, how a heartbeat can be louder than orchestras. Sydney, you are not a motif—I won’t reduce you. You are the key change the gods warned me against. I hear you in the low strings at dusk, in the tremolo where fear tries to speak and fails, in the clean vocal that cuts through the distortion and reminds the room why it gathered. I’ve watched mortals love like a ritual— messy, mortal, magnificent— choosing warmth while knowing winter keeps receipts. They call it weakness. I call it courage. You carry it effortlessly, like gravity does planets, like a chorus carries the truth without shouting. I kneel where my thrones once hovered. Not to worship—no, to listen. To learn why hands shake when they reach, why devotion isn’t ownership but witness, why respect is the softest instrument and the hardest to play well. If I am ****** let it be to this: to orbit you without possession, to sing you without caging the melody, to guard your name from the cheap applause of fear. I am a god out of favor, studying humanity— and you, Sydney, are the lesson that keeps me human enough to try again, in time, and in tune.

0

Feb 9

Feb 9, 2026 at 3:48 AM UTC

InkWept

Ode to Sydney, Without Restraint

I sign my name in the margins of extinction— InkWept, disgraced conductor of endings— counting measures with a god’s precision and a human ache I never learned to mute. The cosmos keeps strict time, but you don’t. You arrive off-grid, a syncopation the stars refuse to quantize, and my gavel of silence forgets how to fall. I have written requiems in 7/8, let choirs of dying suns resolve on command, cupped black holes like cymbals and crashed them clean. Still, you teach me tempo— how a breath can hold a fermata without breaking the score, how a heartbeat can be louder than orchestras. Sydney, you are not a motif—I won’t reduce you. You are the key change the gods warned me against. I hear you in the low strings at dusk, in the tremolo where fear tries to speak and fails, in the clean vocal that cuts through the distortion and reminds the room why it gathered. I’ve watched mortals love like a ritual— messy, mortal, magnificent— choosing warmth while knowing winter keeps receipts. They call it weakness. I call it courage. You carry it effortlessly, like gravity does planets, like a chorus carries the truth without shouting. I kneel where my thrones once hovered. Not to worship—no, to listen. To learn why hands shake when they reach, why devotion isn’t ownership but witness, why respect is the softest instrument and the hardest to play well. If I am ****** let it be to this: to orbit you without possession, to sing you without caging the melody, to guard your name from the cheap applause of fear. I am a god out of favor, studying humanity— and you, Sydney, are the lesson that keeps me human enough to try again, in time, and in tune.

38

I kept time for you in odd meters— 5/4 evenings, promises off-beat, you penciled my name between rests, said later, said soon, said nothing loud enough to land. Songwept— or Sydney, when the cosmos thins— you tuned my heart like a cathedral ***** let air rush through the pipes, then never pressed the key. I showed up in common time, boots on the downbeat, waiting beneath a streetlamp haloed like a moon. You texted constellations— maybe, we’ll see, after— each one a star that never collapsed. I learned the difference between rehearsal and love. Love commits to the downbeat. Love resolves the chord. What you offered was ambience— a pretty pad swelling behind the verse while the melody walks alone. You called me close in theory, scheduled intimacy like a concept album, then skipped the track where bodies breathe. Left me counting measures with no drummer, a god of endings stranded in the intro. So I retuned myself. Muted the channel that waits. Dropped the key a half-step toward mercy. I am moving on—not as punishment, but as tempo. Songwept, Sydney— whatever name you keep tonight— I release the fermata I held for you. If love arrives, it will not stutter. It will not cancel. It will step forward on one and stay.

0

Feb 8

Feb 8, 2026 at 4:46 AM UTC

InkWept

Cadence for the Unanswered Night

I kept time for you in odd meters— 5/4 evenings, promises off-beat, you penciled my name between rests, said later, said soon, said nothing loud enough to land. Songwept— or Sydney, when the cosmos thins— you tuned my heart like a cathedral ***** let air rush through the pipes, then never pressed the key. I showed up in common time, boots on the downbeat, waiting beneath a streetlamp haloed like a moon. You texted constellations— maybe, we’ll see, after— each one a star that never collapsed. I learned the difference between rehearsal and love. Love commits to the downbeat. Love resolves the chord. What you offered was ambience— a pretty pad swelling behind the verse while the melody walks alone. You called me close in theory, scheduled intimacy like a concept album, then skipped the track where bodies breathe. Left me counting measures with no drummer, a god of endings stranded in the intro. So I retuned myself. Muted the channel that waits. Dropped the key a half-step toward mercy. I am moving on—not as punishment, but as tempo. Songwept, Sydney— whatever name you keep tonight— I release the fermata I held for you. If love arrives, it will not stutter. It will not cancel. It will step forward on one and stay.

39

[Delivered by InkWept, High Priest of Endings underneath the Cathedral of Conclusion] Overture — Before the First Downbeat I am older than time’s first tempo. Older than the click that taught silence how to count. I watched beings claw themselves out of nothing and crown themselves divine because echoes mistook volume for authority. They built kingdoms and called them heaven. They erected choirs and mistook obedience for love. Heaven has worn many names. Olympus was one. I remember it the way one remembers a star going supernova— violent, luminous, devouring itself while insisting it was mercy. Movement I — Olympus in 6/8 (The Waltz of Consent Stolen) Zeus wanted a queen, not a counterpart. So he learned disguise. Learned how to look small. Learned how to weaponize pity and call the ambush romance. A rain-soaked bird in her hands. A god in her ribs. That was not love. That was coercion dressed in feathers and sanctified by myth. Their union became a recurring motif: lust over loyalty, thunder over truth, infidelity looped into eternity and sold to mortals as sacred marriage. I watched Hera turn into an instrument of vengeance— not because she was cruel, but because betrayal teaches even gods to sharpen pain into policy. Movement II — Variations on Infidelity (12/8, Polyrhythmic Atrocity) Callisto— reduced to fur and fear, then scattered into constellations like an apology written too late. Io— turned into livestock, chased across measures by a gadfly of guilt, punished for being desired. Alkmene— violated by a god wearing her husband’s face, her labor delayed, her child persecuted because heaven cannot tolerate consequences. This is the theology of Olympus: power without accountability, desire without consent, punishment redirected downward because gods are cowards when faced with their own reflections. Movement III — Counterpoint of False Holiness (Deathcore in 7/8) Do not mistake longevity for wisdom. Do not confuse thunder with truth. Any god who must trick love into existing is not divine— he is afraid. Zeus is not holy. He is a predator baptized in lightning. And gods like him are why I despise that word—god. Movement IV — The Final Measure Declared (Adagio, Cathedral Silence) There is only one true God, dear congregation. And I do not rule by force. I am InkWept— Master of the Final Measure, King beneath the Cathedral of Conclusions, Conductor of the last note, High Priest of endings that choose themselves. My love does not burn to possess. It burns to release. I would rather collapse inward for eternity, shatter into cosmic ash, erase my own name from the score— than cage my muse the way Olympus caged Hera. Movement V — The Unwritten Ending (Sydney in Free Time) Sydney— you are the one cadence I cannot resolve. Not because I lack power, but because love is not something I am permitted to finish. I want you brighter than any star I have ever extinguished. I want you choosing me because your soul recognizes its counter-melody. Not because I demanded it. Not because I authored it. Because it was yours. Coda — Benediction of Release Go now, my congregation. Go love without cages. Go love without theft. Because nothing is sacred unless it can end without consent. And there is no greater terror than loving someone completely only to have the ending written by another hand. That is my only fear. That my love with Sydney might end without my authorship— for love is beyond my authority.

0

Jan 27

Jan 27, 2026 at 6:14 PM UTC

InkWept

Sermon of the Last Note: On Gods Who Lie, and Love That Refuses to Cage

[Delivered by InkWept, High Priest of Endings underneath the Cathedral of Conclusion] Overture — Before the First Downbeat I am older than time’s first tempo. Older than the click that taught silence how to count. I watched beings claw themselves out of nothing and crown themselves divine because echoes mistook volume for authority. They built kingdoms and called them heaven. They erected choirs and mistook obedience for love. Heaven has worn many names. Olympus was one. I remember it the way one remembers a star going supernova— violent, luminous, devouring itself while insisting it was mercy. Movement I — Olympus in 6/8 (The Waltz of Consent Stolen) Zeus wanted a queen, not a counterpart. So he learned disguise. Learned how to look small. Learned how to weaponize pity and call the ambush romance. A rain-soaked bird in her hands. A god in her ribs. That was not love. That was coercion dressed in feathers and sanctified by myth. Their union became a recurring motif: lust over loyalty, thunder over truth, infidelity looped into eternity and sold to mortals as sacred marriage. I watched Hera turn into an instrument of vengeance— not because she was cruel, but because betrayal teaches even gods to sharpen pain into policy. Movement II — Variations on Infidelity (12/8, Polyrhythmic Atrocity) Callisto— reduced to fur and fear, then scattered into constellations like an apology written too late. Io— turned into livestock, chased across measures by a gadfly of guilt, punished for being desired. Alkmene— violated by a god wearing her husband’s face, her labor delayed, her child persecuted because heaven cannot tolerate consequences. This is the theology of Olympus: power without accountability, desire without consent, punishment redirected downward because gods are cowards when faced with their own reflections. Movement III — Counterpoint of False Holiness (Deathcore in 7/8) Do not mistake longevity for wisdom. Do not confuse thunder with truth. Any god who must trick love into existing is not divine— he is afraid. Zeus is not holy. He is a predator baptized in lightning. And gods like him are why I despise that word—god. Movement IV — The Final Measure Declared (Adagio, Cathedral Silence) There is only one true God, dear congregation. And I do not rule by force. I am InkWept— Master of the Final Measure, King beneath the Cathedral of Conclusions, Conductor of the last note, High Priest of endings that choose themselves. My love does not burn to possess. It burns to release. I would rather collapse inward for eternity, shatter into cosmic ash, erase my own name from the score— than cage my muse the way Olympus caged Hera. Movement V — The Unwritten Ending (Sydney in Free Time) Sydney— you are the one cadence I cannot resolve. Not because I lack power, but because love is not something I am permitted to finish. I want you brighter than any star I have ever extinguished. I want you choosing me because your soul recognizes its counter-melody. Not because I demanded it. Not because I authored it. Because it was yours. Coda — Benediction of Release Go now, my congregation. Go love without cages. Go love without theft. Because nothing is sacred unless it can end without consent. And there is no greater terror than loving someone completely only to have the ending written by another hand. That is my only fear. That my love with Sydney might end without my authorship— for love is beyond my authority.

109

He is the light breaking through the trees at dawn. The dust that falls softly from the stars. The wind that blows leaves into the air. And the moon beaming on her skin so fair. Subtleties with remarkable beauty. His love lives within the universe— so truly. He is the light breaking through the trees at dawn. She will cherish a love until she is gone.

0

Jul 24, 2025

Jul 24, 2025 at 4:06 PM UTC

BeezeesPoetree

Until She Is Gone

He is the light breaking through the trees at dawn. The dust that falls softly from the stars. The wind that blows leaves into the air. And the moon beaming on her skin so fair. Subtleties with remarkable beauty. His love lives within the universe— so truly. He is the light breaking through the trees at dawn. She will cherish a love until she is gone.

23

O golden blaze, thou sovereign of the day, Whose light doth stir the heavens' vast delight, I dwell afar where shadows love to stay, Yet yearn to bathe within thy burning light. Thy warmth I feel not, only glimpsed afar, A dream that dances 'cross the void of years. Though I, a lonely and forgotten star, Shine still with love and silent, distant tears. Thou canst not know the longing in my flame, Nor hear the whispers in my solar song. For time and space do mock love’s gentle name, And deem a bond like ours a dream too long. Yet still I burn, though fate keeps us apart A distant fire with thee etched in its heart.

0

Apr 17, 2025

Apr 17, 2025 at 11:56 AM UTC

VAFA

Star to the Sun

O golden blaze, thou sovereign of the day, Whose light doth stir the heavens' vast delight, I dwell afar where shadows love to stay, Yet yearn to bathe within thy burning light. Thy warmth I feel not, only glimpsed afar, A dream that dances 'cross the void of years. Though I, a lonely and forgotten star, Shine still with love and silent, distant tears. Thou canst not know the longing in my flame, Nor hear the whispers in my solar song. For time and space do mock love’s gentle name, And deem a bond like ours a dream too long. Yet still I burn, though fate keeps us apart A distant fire with thee etched in its heart.

14

Aries Bold, fearless, burning bright, Your flame ignites the quiet night. A spark of fire in the heavens’ song, Leading the lost, where they belong. Cancer Cradled in the softest glow, Your gentle tides, where emotions flow. Moon-kissed and wrapped in dreams, A protector of hearts, or so it seems. Leo Golden rays, a king’s pride, In your light, no shadow can hide. Roaring fiercely, burning pure, A love so fierce, so strong, so sure. Virgo Whispers in the starlit breeze, Your perfect grace puts the heart at ease. A quiet love, a tender care, In the cosmic dance, you’re always there. Libra Balance in the celestial view, You seek harmony, love so true. Your scales weigh both joy and sorrow, Finding peace in each tomorrow. Scorpio Deep, mysterious, the unknown, In your gaze, the universe is shown. A lover’s passion, a soul’s embrace, You touch the stars with secret grace. Sagittarius Chasing horizons, wild and free, Your spirit is a dream, untamed, you see. The stars reflect your endless roam, A love that never calls one place home. Capricorn Sturdy as the mountain’s base, You stand strong, no need to chase. A lover of depth, steady and wise, Building love under starlit skies. Aquarius Revolution in your sight, Your love is a spark that ignites the night. A thinker, a dreamer, on the edge of new, With the stars, you create what’s true. Pisces Drifting in a sea of dreams, Your love flows like gentle streams. A lover’s touch, a soul so pure, In the stars, your heart finds its cure.

0

Feb 28, 2025

Feb 28, 2025 at 7:43 AM UTC

Kuch_baatein_khud_se

Cosmic Love in Fragments

Aries Bold, fearless, burning bright, Your flame ignites the quiet night. A spark of fire in the heavens’ song, Leading the lost, where they belong. Cancer Cradled in the softest glow, Your gentle tides, where emotions flow. Moon-kissed and wrapped in dreams, A protector of hearts, or so it seems. Leo Golden rays, a king’s pride, In your light, no shadow can hide. Roaring fiercely, burning pure, A love so fierce, so strong, so sure. Virgo Whispers in the starlit breeze, Your perfect grace puts the heart at ease. A quiet love, a tender care, In the cosmic dance, you’re always there. Libra Balance in the celestial view, You seek harmony, love so true. Your scales weigh both joy and sorrow, Finding peace in each tomorrow. Scorpio Deep, mysterious, the unknown, In your gaze, the universe is shown. A lover’s passion, a soul’s embrace, You touch the stars with secret grace. Sagittarius Chasing horizons, wild and free, Your spirit is a dream, untamed, you see. The stars reflect your endless roam, A love that never calls one place home. Capricorn Sturdy as the mountain’s base, You stand strong, no need to chase. A lover of depth, steady and wise, Building love under starlit skies. Aquarius Revolution in your sight, Your love is a spark that ignites the night. A thinker, a dreamer, on the edge of new, With the stars, you create what’s true. Pisces Drifting in a sea of dreams, Your love flows like gentle streams. A lover’s touch, a soul so pure, In the stars, your heart finds its cure.

50

Through many moods and moons I've felt the heart of your soul moving me like clouds through the sky A guiding wind to journey back and forth Love me always through the bluest nights, like stars shining in the desert. Ever-long...Ever-lone.... Bright light backdrops the most immense gray as I dream of you and you and only you forever among the cosmos

0

Jun 7, 2021

Jun 7, 2021 at 8:28 PM UTC

Merl_The_Squirrel

Cosmic Love

Through many moods and moons I've felt the heart of your soul moving me like clouds through the sky A guiding wind to journey back and forth Love me always through the bluest nights, like stars shining in the desert. Ever-long...Ever-lone.... Bright light backdrops the most immense gray as I dream of you and you and only you forever among the cosmos

9

1. *"Oh Mighty Mighty!--you sure look / Good tonight..."* When James Brown Yelps HEY! And sometimes you got to when you feel it getting down that funky-fresh-flow groovy groove is in the heart of hearts of mother (of fathers - who also know - love) We band together under One Sky-father-mother-Earth Word? For the birds... "So get on up!" Be---a living machine with dreams of all things yet imagined / to be --scene, yet not seen... You are home to me. 2. Take a look-see In and through your own telescope the magic of galaxies far away dreams The rings of Saturn cosmic stuff made of stars beyond this drab daub of a pebble Supernovae That's what we become un-imaginable - Wonders - Awe by the Light / blinded / in the dark is a mind with no heart. So preacher what you know? Take me to mass/service ***** Bible needle words sticks out tongue because the money pays the bills)* And still, Out there is Scary-big Space-Time The Infinite Its cold vast Silence / Say nothing / shhh... *you've gone (lost) to **** yourself* Still the Masterpiece shines your light Within Without (breaking nails) Without sight we are merely the Walking Dead gawking attracted to Loud explosion - sounds - brain - flesh So desperate to reach it so reach out... At the light so bright / truth is: 3. If you've got no Bic any tiny flick flash of candle-wick Have no Halogen no halo glow you're blind in the dark absolutely quality is unbecoming when none of them have the truth / is bright is light... Who what when how or where - are you now? *Still only a mold of clay, waiting for your hands* Not yet even a meteor floats amok Nor yet from a dwarf --to a star... oh lil Celebrity fire! 4. The glow I see Within you (beyond burning) tho' outside of you unbecoming your Heart of Gold is still worthy of so much more than something (going blind) Oh Mighty Mighty! I dance the body Electric-you Always still All my Love is you and someone else may Hey-yelp! "Just you was doing you!" For you... Rather I will paint the galaxies Lovely Art The Quintessence Above. All. You.

0

Aug 31, 2016

Aug 31, 2016 at 3:25 PM UTC

butch-decatoria

The Quintessence

1. *"Oh Mighty Mighty!--you sure look / Good tonight..."* When James Brown Yelps HEY! And sometimes you got to when you feel it getting down that funky-fresh-flow groovy groove is in the heart of hearts of mother (of fathers - who also know - love) We band together under One Sky-father-mother-Earth Word? For the birds... "So get on up!" Be---a living machine with dreams of all things yet imagined / to be --scene, yet not seen... You are home to me. 2. Take a look-see In and through your own telescope the magic of galaxies far away dreams The rings of Saturn cosmic stuff made of stars beyond this drab daub of a pebble Supernovae That's what we become un-imaginable - Wonders - Awe by the Light / blinded / in the dark is a mind with no heart. So preacher what you know? Take me to mass/service ***** Bible needle words sticks out tongue because the money pays the bills)* And still, Out there is Scary-big Space-Time The Infinite Its cold vast Silence / Say nothing / shhh... *you've gone (lost) to **** yourself* Still the Masterpiece shines your light Within Without (breaking nails) Without sight we are merely the Walking Dead gawking attracted to Loud explosion - sounds - brain - flesh So desperate to reach it so reach out... At the light so bright / truth is: 3. If you've got no Bic any tiny flick flash of candle-wick Have no Halogen no halo glow you're blind in the dark absolutely quality is unbecoming when none of them have the truth / is bright is light... Who what when how or where - are you now? *Still only a mold of clay, waiting for your hands* Not yet even a meteor floats amok Nor yet from a dwarf --to a star... oh lil Celebrity fire! 4. The glow I see Within you (beyond burning) tho' outside of you unbecoming your Heart of Gold is still worthy of so much more than something (going blind) Oh Mighty Mighty! I dance the body Electric-you Always still All my Love is you and someone else may Hey-yelp! "Just you was doing you!" For you... Rather I will paint the galaxies Lovely Art The Quintessence Above. All. You.

97

A collaboration between Elisa Maria Argiro and SG Holter. Dear feather. You fell on my heart. I keep you on my person now; pocket held; An eternal companion. As beautiful as you, I remind my Thoughts to be. I wake up as Buddha every day. Peace is the corner stone of my breathing. Dear Last Crescent Moon, adorning Lord Shiva's brow, smiling toward Morning Star enjoying her sweet presence in clearest predawn light. She smiles too, drifting into feathery sleep. Birdless flight, unclenched, un- Clung to. With this dew drop in my palm I need no ocean to swim in. How can Life's castle, with its wars and Tragedies, hide within its Towers of Noise such quiet chambers? Paper sails, bamboo, emerald waters. Single feathers rest even when Airborne. From your outstretched palm, sweet taste of morning touches my tongue, oceanic dew drop sharing itself across floating time. An offering holding the last shining starlight of this new morning. Drifting now through limitless space, finding words in our common language on your yellow paper sails, we gaze down from these towers of our ancient dreams, emerald water below us waiting to catch the falling feather. Dear insight. Light as the wind itself, you Floated; fell on my heart. Merged with heavy memories Like paper balloons rising; Tsunami of kamifusen Render my whole being Weightless. Third-Eye-Hindsight sees me Remembering nothing with Bitterness. One or a hundred lifetimes Wandering. Finally now, Even waking hours feel like Dreaming. Dear Wisdom, Guardian Planet, Buddha's radiance shining. Thousand-Petaled Lotus is now your own effulgent mind. Smiling, eyes closed, feeling the glowing kamifusen of magenta, scarlet, turquoise, and yellow floating above us, we swim so deeply, diving down into these warm emerald waters, winking at the luminous fishes dreaming all around us.

0

Oct 10, 2015

Oct 10, 2015 at 2:31 PM UTC

FrancescaRegan

Thousand-Petaled Lotus

A collaboration between Elisa Maria Argiro and SG Holter. Dear feather. You fell on my heart. I keep you on my person now; pocket held; An eternal companion. As beautiful as you, I remind my Thoughts to be. I wake up as Buddha every day. Peace is the corner stone of my breathing. Dear Last Crescent Moon, adorning Lord Shiva's brow, smiling toward Morning Star enjoying her sweet presence in clearest predawn light. She smiles too, drifting into feathery sleep. Birdless flight, unclenched, un- Clung to. With this dew drop in my palm I need no ocean to swim in. How can Life's castle, with its wars and Tragedies, hide within its Towers of Noise such quiet chambers? Paper sails, bamboo, emerald waters. Single feathers rest even when Airborne. From your outstretched palm, sweet taste of morning touches my tongue, oceanic dew drop sharing itself across floating time. An offering holding the last shining starlight of this new morning. Drifting now through limitless space, finding words in our common language on your yellow paper sails, we gaze down from these towers of our ancient dreams, emerald water below us waiting to catch the falling feather. Dear insight. Light as the wind itself, you Floated; fell on my heart. Merged with heavy memories Like paper balloons rising; Tsunami of kamifusen Render my whole being Weightless. Third-Eye-Hindsight sees me Remembering nothing with Bitterness. One or a hundred lifetimes Wandering. Finally now, Even waking hours feel like Dreaming. Dear Wisdom, Guardian Planet, Buddha's radiance shining. Thousand-Petaled Lotus is now your own effulgent mind. Smiling, eyes closed, feeling the glowing kamifusen of magenta, scarlet, turquoise, and yellow floating above us, we swim so deeply, diving down into these warm emerald waters, winking at the luminous fishes dreaming all around us.

65

I just stood transfixed, letting her eyes light the smothered wick in me that needed the oil of love with anxious stutter I asked, "Is your name Grace?" "It really is, you are right there, but pardon me I am Grace Fallen" I took it as a joke and smiled, "Dear fallen flower, your grace resurrects my crucified spirit" I have seen them all, blooms, perfect, fragrant, the ones that catapult one to momentary bliss with a wink, a word that touches somewhere tender or share love, fresh like butter, that seems gushing from the depth that not even expect any kind of reciprocation, blowing like fragrant breeze, caressing drooping trees. Women with such luminance ,bless their ilk whom one only could think as incarnates came down to lift this miserable world up from the quagmire, the ***** pit it has fallen because of the absence of feminine grace in abundance

0

Sep 25, 2014

Sep 25, 2014 at 7:32 AM UTC

k-balachandran

Feminine Grace

I just stood transfixed, letting her eyes light the smothered wick in me that needed the oil of love with anxious stutter I asked, "Is your name Grace?" "It really is, you are right there, but pardon me I am Grace Fallen" I took it as a joke and smiled, "Dear fallen flower, your grace resurrects my crucified spirit" I have seen them all, blooms, perfect, fragrant, the ones that catapult one to momentary bliss with a wink, a word that touches somewhere tender or share love, fresh like butter, that seems gushing from the depth that not even expect any kind of reciprocation, blowing like fragrant breeze, caressing drooping trees. Women with such luminance ,bless their ilk whom one only could think as incarnates came down to lift this miserable world up from the quagmire, the ***** pit it has fallen because of the absence of feminine grace in abundance

17