poetry

A poem: She

 

She is the sparkling of the moon,  the stories never told, 

She sings in poetic silences, dancing in the midnight hour, 

On some days, she is a thunder,  on others she is like the still wind, 

Her silence infuses you in fire, in her laugh you quiver with desire, 

She clears the clouds with her smile,  sleeps with the howling wolves, 

She is no certitude at all, but as fleeting as the intangible midst, 

Her tears are never ending,  but her passion is all consuming, 

She loves as deep as the ocean, dares as fiercely as the open sky, 

She is a book with no ending,  she is the vast infinite sky, 

She might not be anything special at all, but in her flame, in her love,

She is the wonder of the world that never really came into being at all

Her sways are magnetising,  her eyes as deep as the sweetest star. 

There are no explanations to her whims, no validation to her dreams,

But you take it anyway, she  is the worst of curses, the greatest of blessings,

When you find one of her, keep her, she is all that’s worth loving,

All that’s worth protecting, sheltering, glowing and longing for, 

She is the soul of life itself, connected to her,  men become kings. 

 

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