with eternity as an endless creation,
what meaning is of a minute or a single hour?
but my heart,filled with twilight
planting dreams as memories ,
these timeless ones, those azure passions.
with roots of tempered emeralds,
petals of floating moon glass
the scent of the thousand orchids,
tearing through the sky suffocating my soul
pry them apart,wish them away
but no one ever won a revolt,,
never against his own heart.
4 comments:
petals of floating moon glass... that was lovely...
Its also perfectly fictional, a random combination of unrelated words.
yeah but i pictured it, and it gave me a beautiful image hehe...
yeah petals of floating moon glass gives me an image of petal shaped glass floating in the air, making these patterns that are otherworldly, the kind from the old churches in Europe. I like the first bits, they were dreamy and from a fantasy world, and very colourful and odd shapes that makes it art. The last paragraph lost me - what's a revolt of the heart? Not that I'm complaining, I'd just let it pass me by when I read the poem, but I'm pointing out that I didn't get that.
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