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 Page: Profile: Poetry   Total Views: 10,238,748  

Poem Specs

VxPoem ID: 9513


Posted: February 14th. 2005 5:41:19 AM

Views: 1740

Seven Flowers

by Eternal Grey

Age Group: Adult

He said she was the sun, or some rubbish like that. How bovine can one man be? How blind? To be ashamedly uninspired by such beauty divine? What manner of illness could he possibly claim? A malady of the heart? A madness of passion? What half-wit excuse to be blinded, even by love, he could not see her true worth but must compare her to something so common as the everyday sun?

When first I beheld her, I knew I was mad. I wasn't overfilled with love, nor stricken with awe. No emotions so mundane could begin to compare with what filled me. I knew, therefore, this could never be real. Surely this is a dream of Angels on what beauty should be, and I no longer live.

Yet there is the knowledge I am breathing and my heart yet beats, albeit with pain such as a blade (driven) to my very soul. And it awakens me to an impossible choice. I am expired of the mortal plain and she is in truth the desire of Angels and so beyond me. Or I most sadly yet live and she is a vision come to me through time - a beauty eternal that must be but a dream.

And who am I to foolishly wish to deserve her? No one; no one, and always so, though of unquestionable birth. Nothing, for that is what I am without her, and what a worm to the desire of the Heavens? What matter heartache and a dying soul to that which brings it? Does she not know, the Earth humbled about and beneath her, and the sky dark seeming before her perfection?

Oh, the feeling of helpless torment! To be so utterly ravaged as to wipe clean the mind, and the heart left all but drained. The turning of some circumstance, I beliken it to, of such force unimaginable its passing leaves the senses stunned, uncomprehending. What is the sun, or even the Heavens entire when something so completely rattles you, senseless, to your very core?

Senseless, indeed, the one in truth without wit. I now realize, much too late, the sad and doubtless truth. I see it clearly through the horrid, gaping void within my heart; that festering hole left me by indecision's gutless rape. If I had but moved at the moment provided by chance, it is I with whose fate she would have been intertwined.

He was no more a God than I. He could no more enrich her life than I, as both we were mere men. It was that he was uplifted in her eyes that made him so seem. Alas, weeping heart, your message now clear but your well unstopped too late... too late! So this unmarked grave do I now bear, and with it seven flowers for my love.

Author's Location: Guntersville, Alabama
More Poems: Eternal Grey has posted 48 additional poems- View them?
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