She was in a wasteland, alone.
Her skin was the color of summer breeze and her hair was the ocean's dream.
And in her eyes burned the fires of forever.
But in the wasteland she grew thin, the dust collected in her pores and she was grey
She became the faceless amidst the stone and sand.
When the weary traveller tripped upon her wrist, he cried
For her lips that he never could reach
And his tears fell like waves, and washed her clean
Through his pain, and his love, she was reborn.
They caught fire and blazed like a beacon, and the wasteland burned
in to a world of glass, in to a world of mirrors.
And the fearless lovers saw for the first time, themselves, reflected
And standing alone amidst the chaos, they were unafraid.
No comments:
Post a Comment