In eyes of rising wonder,
they gaze without a phasing thought.
He sees his will, broken and thrown asunder,
but sees only her strength, so oft sought.
As always it is the same:
He will see the worst in him,
and without any claim at shame-
In her: only goodness to the brim.
For surely there is no measure
in the echo of time on his stain.
Whereas his pleasure
is also his also his pain.
Yet if these two could see as one,
perhaps they both would see each other
in the brighter light of sun-
instead of hating self, and loving one another.
 animal_one_X · Sat Jun 21, 2008 @ 08:07am · 1 Comments |
