All the things you are, I cherish.
The brilliance of your flashing eyes,
How they blind me with their magma depths,
The way the breeze catches your hair,
Bringing it closer to me so that I may catch a whiff,
I am indeed the luckiest man alive.
For alive I am, when you take my hands in yours,
And let me know with gestures that this will always be,
The tactile assurance scorches me in painless glow.
The world is ours, we've only to grasp it.
Together we are the fabled phoenix,
And rise from the scattering ashes of the dim past,
All contention is harmless,
Mechanical insinuations of bruised pride
That we can safely ignore.
Let bitter tears evaporate,
Let them become neutered gas,
Let them never interrupt,
Never hold our souls captive.
Author notes
Written November 5th, 2003
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I came here because of the title. I search for sweet, blessed moments of relief.
And you have described your relief well. The symbolizm (sp?) of the phoenix caught my eye. Beautiful image, of becoming one fabled phoenix and rising together from the ashes of shattered memories.
A beautiful poem here.
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that was so gorgeous
and a bit obsessive, perhaps?
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