Waking another morning,
My beating heart will swell
With either tears of mourning
Or joyous tales to tell.
Again, my rising sunlight
And rising moon will see
How many more will lose their sight
In love’s consuming sea.
Were I the bow of Cupid,
I’d have his arrows quell
The flames that trap the lucid
Into his blinding spell.
I have no choice nor reason
To brave these grounds of war
Where fairness is a treason
To love’s unending lore.
Yet there is more than one path
Where battles lay in wake:
A romance claims a pure wrath
That a kinship too can take.
Were I to have this season
Revive old Valentine,
I’d beg to cure the lesion
In their heart as well as mine.
The scars across my center
Are sized both small and large;
I pray for love to enter
And lead a fearless charge.
Yet none can slay the suff’ring
Upon the soiled earth,
Nor may we chill the flaming ring
Of wedding or of birth.
Were I a bolt of lightning
And thunder were my grief,
Both land and sea be fright’ning
Before there be relief.
This tempest without slumber
Consumes the young and old:
And so too will encumber
The meager and the bold.
To live is only evil
When living in the grin
Made by the restless devil
Who veils your kin for sin.
Were I a Lord benev’lent,
I’d gladly wield my sword
To smite the wicked serpent
Who plucks my heartstring’d chord.
Yet ne’er a chance would there be
To feel how deep love reigns
If agony were never free
To course all through our veins.
Affection, though be priceless,
Can cost far more than gold,
Yet when born true, none can repress
Nor price it to be sold.
Were I truly forsaken
By lover, home and hearth,
Then my woe would awaken
And leave me without worth.
I cannot feel so loveless
As to implore my fate
To leave me cold and breathless
If I cannot find my mate.
My youthful grief and folly
May leave me feeling torn;
Though courtship would be jolly,
Its absence will not scorn.
I pray to wake one morning
Beside a heart so well,
But I will save my mourning
For tales the loveless tell.
=============
It’s a shame that this was rejected by a writing magazine. At least now it can be properly published here, with me: a true home.
discoholicmusic
yousharknotpass
origamiaround
andulkaphoto
janainaart
