Today is the third day, and neither wind nor rain have shaken the Amaranthine from its captivity. Indeed this morn, when I passed by, it hung torn between two greedy strands, each pulling her to itself. The avarice of the elements took their toll, voiding the flower of its aqua, yet failing in the quest to end its life, fortifying it instead, its petals hardened into a plate mail, guarding the heart, the scarce nectar within.
Thus it floated, a vessel of air whose soul one could not catch. Yet that was not my intent, instead, I wanted but to free it. I cut its ropes and posed it in a pocket by my chest, to warm it with my pulse. Those beats have been yours, now I have placed you in my crimson book to rest, let me now turn the page, an empty one I need this eve.
Thus it floated, a vessel of air whose soul one could not catch. Yet that was not my intent, instead, I wanted but to free it. I cut its ropes and posed it in a pocket by my chest, to warm it with my pulse. Those beats have been yours, now I have placed you in my crimson book to rest, let me now turn the page, an empty one I need this eve.
all time is eternally present, but fare forward, voyager
ReplyDelete