A Blissful Death
And my misery became joy by the thought of her.
I always aim for perfection, but since the turn of the moon, I have felt an implosion within, caging me in the receptacle of my hell, locked by the Lord of the skies, making me a jester right before my haughty eyes.
I struggle with persistent and unrelenting efforts to get out, but my bones refuse to become one; my body without a soul is torn into shreds… I wish I could disappear far away from earth, ALONE. No one cares if I should tread upon my entrails, death do I embrace.
But before I continue in my agony of the lonely earth — although friends hadn’t I early days of my life — do I delight in so much gladness and human affection. Still, my head bows to the possibility of my captivity, a world without end, to embrace eternal solitude and sobriety. A place no one shall dwell but me, not of my own doing, but the balance of nature’s cause.
Yet one person I find so humanly and perfect of all beings — clever, cheerful and just so perfect a being I have ever seen. Few words pondered, for if a man ever loves, then she and I shall be bound as the phrase, “Yes, I do”.
One person, not the beauty that deceives, but the character that blossoms.
Beauty is less seen and much perceived. And even though perception tends to deceive, the beauty that caught my eye was no short of divinity in all its glories.
But I shall not speak untrue. Indeed, I have experienced a lot within the confinement of man’s creation — a battlefield where the survivor can appreciate the beauty of the divine.
I shiver, for the villain is set to enslave me in my own Hell. I plead for pardon from the skies above to lift me, but I feel comfort, although not the comfort that quells all pain.
But once my mind hovers along the road that she hitchhikes, I am frozen at the spot like a pillar of salt. My gloomy state sparked into life by just the crevice that leads her soul to stare. Surely a fair lady! Bless the sun that gives man wisdom to see beauty in beauty.
Her apparel does not fool me, but I must say, I cannot resist the gaze of Medusa.
That I may speak more and fill your curiosity with the devil’s intentions, I hold.
Yet beauty is not from gold nor diamonds but from the character and in-depth of the soul.
Beauty arises from marbles of form trod upon by merchant’s feet. That beauty is that wish sparkles and reignites affections.
So it was; my end was put to a halt by the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
