“We are like roses that have never bothered to bloom when we should have bloomed and it is as if the sun has become disgusted with waiting”.

23
Dez 14

 

To mine eyes thou art
as unto the sun.
most beautiful of all
is to me thine light.
in the desert blooms a rose.
such as thou, flower which
abideth in my tent.
and while about us blows a
hurricane of wordly winds.
like unto the fury of the gods.
as we lay unto each other
we heareth not.
thy breath is like
unto the cedars of lebanon
thy gaze is but the
moon in mine heart.
the perfume of thy body
is like unto the pools
of the northern lands.
full of salt and life.
I am yours
my goddess.
unto you I build my
circle.
Unto you I offer my gold and
my chests.
Thou art all I hath dreamed.
and unto you is all glory.
nether shall my bones go.
nether shall my thoughts disperse.
but always unto you my love,
blooming in the barren sand
of the world.
always unto you
my rose of the desert.

 

By C.S.

 

Flores e letras me ofertas, o escolhido, o anjo caído, o meu mago, filho da lua dedicou-me este poema e aqui o pouso, por entre aromas invernais e escuridões alumiadas pela lua amante e branca, sou eu e tu e somos nós que aqui estamos e esperamos pela lua primeira. Meu feiticeiro guarda-te da invernia dessas montanhas inescrutáveis no meu regaço. Desentraçarei os cabelos e os laços e serei tua fortaleza porque está quase, uma eternidade antes me esperou, uma eternidade depois me esperará.

publicado por Ligeia Noire às 14:00
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