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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The people of this world are like the three butterflies in front of a candle's flame. The first one went closer and said:I know about love. The second one touched the flame lightly with his wings and said: I know how love's fire can burn. The third one threw himself into the heart of the flame and was consumed. The alone knows what true love is. Rumi I sit alone in a silent field of fairness, under saffron rays kissing sunflower serenity, among dawn's daisies and dusk's dandelions - watching buds floating away with whisking winds. Fate does not favour my quest to soar freely. In a meadow of humanity's betraying breaths, our buttercup souls become ambushed by a suffocation of sighs. When there is no justice in spiteful judgement, visions of Basilisk slither with a deadly gaze. Envious eyes poisoned by potions of venom, abuse the selfless mistress of my garden's muse - but without Eve there would be no Adam nor Eden. Weeping on the grave of her past self, her fatigued spirit struggles to fight and rise. I watch darkness ascend in springtime, when her mind portrays a veil in the misery of mist. I feel like a helpless flame burning in ivory wax. Untreated wounds with time festering into an ebony existence of self deprecation. I can see butterfly hunters with their narcissistic nets, chasing my imperfectly perfect empress of empathy. Her heart hungers for a plethora of petals, to hover from a ruby rose to lotuses of liberty, but predatory birds like harlots and hussies, have lured her into a withering winter colony of thorns. Sorrow stitched her eyes closed with merlot thread, as her sanity sits upon the edge of heaven and hell. The Devil wears a hat with an emblem of her sins. The bewitching conspiracy of his crimson eyes, tempting to massacre the magnificence of her invisible crystal wings of bronze and gold. In a martyrdom of self-sacrifice, love reminds her that kindness glows softly like fireflies, as she tries to find light in a tunnel of lost thoughts. The universe echoes her cosmic whispers of life, as psychedelic ink shimmers like starlight in her veins, pouring compassion into a selfish blank canvas of hearts. Cherry blossoms tint the air pink and she's looking at the world through their gaze, but knows like everything, their fragile beauty is only momentary.
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