At infinite dust of possibilities,
Light rose and set like a knight,
With its shining armor, the screens were up,
A mere glance of her,
Jumping energy levels,
Leaving traces of her radiant shell.
Ages turned to eons,
Memory of millions of years,
Still crashes to her thought,
The free spirit of every soul,
We were the heart of this universe,
With all the time in this space,
All we wished was to be one,
Collide with the greatest force,
Be one if it meant for one moment's time,
But with all we tried, we were the slaves of laws,
The irresistible lust to touch her once,
Over ages has faded to dust,
As we cycled the shallow mass,
As we raced with the light,
All desires seems clumsy,
When you cling by this lone heart.
They say we can't be together,
Their shallow concepts don't hold us,
For we are lost in this higher law,
For we are the savages reigned by fate.
This crash may never happen,
This tale may end in sorrow,
For this charge run through our veins,
For we won't live with chances,
So we ran with out might,
The stars of our own fate,
With all the speed we grew dim,
Till the dark gulfed us through.
Like a sudden flame, we crashed,
Our love flew through our bodies,
The time could have stopped,
But it was jealous of our sound glow,
Like an neutron star we faced the end,
Incapacitated and burnt,
We fade in this beautiful silence.

the previous listener, who did so faintly and in a manner foreign to me, sat reasonably as I do now, or perhaps lain starry and jaded on some soft lawn riddled with the paused movements of those who watched, clouded with distraction, the life of a sweet nothing drown in descent from above as they cheered and screamed for it, for that meaningless treasure tainted by the vanity of their own desire, ignorant of the listener, of her own treasure then forming, as something warm and enduring in the seat of her chest, something to brood, to analyze, to cherish for a length, at great odds with the fleet and trivia that so dominated the struct of their noire.

but the listener had none of this, gulfed from the shaking and pressing, shielded the same from its symbol and write, opting to push for those few golden moments most certainly approaching her as the rest wraithed past, softly and shyly granting the scarcest and most shamefully starved of treelines, roadways and ballparks and wire staff, knowing but keeping that the few she would most deeply and fondly remember would be just these.

and so the listener and her lover stood past, sweeping over the artificial earths with little concern, not pausing or skipping for a moment to witness the wonder in the world around them and to soak up some indefinable fraction of its infinite offerings. from lain block to patch grass they strode, searching for their one moment, for that which so surely stood staunch and unmoving at some near point in their passage, but which always seemed to elude them, to taunt and hang and cackle in the face of their steadily growing contempt.

and then, as the crowd deserted their peaks for the safe and steady and trough, allowing those moments of elation to slip from them with ease, the listener let likewise all that was precious to her from her grasp, and fell into a similar place, one of deserted lows and recollections of the brightness that lay behind, of those very moments that felt their way independently into her heart and her soul, and left her love beside her, forever looking up into the dark.

My own soul left me.
Ire gulfed me till I found out,
‘twas seeking a home

12:48
Two seconds ago you were kissing me
One second after, you turned to her
I saw the sun setting down
Reflecting red on the sea and ground
I'm gulfed in feelings of hate

12:49
Before, I breathed in your tight embrace
But then you stood and walked away
I can not see you anymore
But hey, that's fine
I know you're no longer mine

12:50
Don't worry, I'll let your heart fly high
In one minute, these feelings of mine shall die
It will be as swift as when you left me
I'm gonna let go and let you be
But then I sigh, 'cause it was already,

12:52
And I still love you.

To a writer, a book full of words is a treasure untold,
A tapestry of their art, a story yet to unfold.
With each page turned, their imagination takes flight,
Inspiring them to create, to dream, and to write.

And for a poet, letters of love are like whispers from the heart,
Gulfed with emotions, they ignite a poetic spark.
Each word a brushstroke, painting emotions on the page,
Creating verses that resonate, like an eternal flame.

So, send these gifts to writers and poets near and far,
A book for the writer, a letter for the poet, like shooting stars.
Let them know their words have touched your soul,
And inspire them to continue sharing their art, making it whole.

May these gestures of love and appreciation,
Fuel their creative fire, their endless dedication.
For in their words, we find solace and delight,
A testament to the power of writing, shining bright.