Two faces, one world: a coin of golden color. It sits in the desert or is it a sea to dreams, and possibility? A mother to my pain holds nothing back for truth is greater unrefined, and what shines will soon fade, to bronze and tarnished pride, but forever it will remain mine. By summer light comes the key, to a new life where each day will not surmount another. Not before, or after. It will remain a dream, and each face will glow as if its’ spark will last forever; this is love. Love with two sides and one story, to heed not the troubles that come, but to accept, if not welcome them, with the knowledge that they will not overcome, not anything or anyone. And so, the night is invited in and a hand is offered by a man and a woman just the same. It is the hand of love, and it is their name. It is a life, and two, carried out in selfless stride, falling, and making it their flight. This time, a home and the devotion, a gift both given and received; this is happiness. It is golden adoration, a wavering piece of polished bronze in a world of silver. It has been my home, a place to call my own, and it is beautiful.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
My Last Day
------------------------------Your Words--------------------------------------
Two faces, one world: a coin of golden color. It sits in the desert or is it a sea to dreams, and possibility? A mother to my pain holds nothing back for truth is greater unrefined, and what shines will soon fade, to bronze and tarnished pride, but forever it will remain mine. By summer light comes the key, to a new life where each day will not surmount another. Not before, or after. It will remain a dream, and each face will glow as if its’ spark will last forever; this is love. Love with two sides and one story, to heed not the troubles that come, but to accept, if not welcome them, with the knowledge that they will not overcome, not anything or anyone. And so, the night is invited in and a hand is offered by a man and a woman just the same. It is the hand of love, and it is their name. It is a life, and two, carried out in selfless stride, falling, and making it their flight. This time, a home and the devotion, a gift both given and received; this is happiness. It is golden adoration, a wavering piece of polished bronze in a world of silver. It has been my home, a place to call my own, and it is beautiful.
Two faces, one world: a coin of golden color. It sits in the desert or is it a sea to dreams, and possibility? A mother to my pain holds nothing back for truth is greater unrefined, and what shines will soon fade, to bronze and tarnished pride, but forever it will remain mine. By summer light comes the key, to a new life where each day will not surmount another. Not before, or after. It will remain a dream, and each face will glow as if its’ spark will last forever; this is love. Love with two sides and one story, to heed not the troubles that come, but to accept, if not welcome them, with the knowledge that they will not overcome, not anything or anyone. And so, the night is invited in and a hand is offered by a man and a woman just the same. It is the hand of love, and it is their name. It is a life, and two, carried out in selfless stride, falling, and making it their flight. This time, a home and the devotion, a gift both given and received; this is happiness. It is golden adoration, a wavering piece of polished bronze in a world of silver. It has been my home, a place to call my own, and it is beautiful.
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