Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

I could hear a loud song resounding through the night
Like the heavy beams of the star fenced Angel,
Drops of light sliding down Her face to the cold, damp earth.
She was alone, and I with Her made peace to this Sky,
This ever present reminder that Her hands can never reach mine.
This song was that peace, yet it slowly devoured piece by piece,
Gnawing at my skin. My arms: the first to go.
My Angel in the heavens, afraid for what I would be,
Reached past the sky that held Her dear, and reached for only me.
This night was ********, soon to bear the child of desperation,
Conceived by the indignant rape of solitude and silence.
And without these hands, my voice would be silent.
My words said all they could,
Screaming the echo of only drunken ruptured vocals.
“I love you” was harsh and over-encumbering,
Leaving only my Angel to stare down at my action-less body,
Leaving only thoughts to express something defined by movement.
And perhaps that was a worse fate for Her pale skin.
She bent over in agony, pregnancy of desperation,
Giving birth to this life I call my home,
Giving birth to a defect of humanity in all its realms.
Darkness.
Many nights will haunt the dreams of my mortality
As I throw away my Angel’s love for the lesser love of the surrounding.
But these trees still point up to her, and street lamps,
They still remind me of my Angel in the sky,
How they are held by something and powered by another.
The couple that remains: a warm embrace and meaningful emotion.
But one can argue on this: “Love does not exist!”
But the Moon will protest, fight, argue, scream, and cry.
My Angel understands these things you so argue against,
But can never truly hold what She so desperately reaches for.