Tarnished Gold
Shayura:
“I dreamt my body was dull gold and rotted, fickle grace abandoned me, yet scattered, I reforged my essence through brilliance and incandescence, allotting my time – I dared to dream again. In faith, I dwelled beneath myself as my spirit raised and polished my tarnished skin ever so boldly to completion, to my perfection, here I lie, emboldened by my untruth. Half-lidded eyes scry my horizon and wipe the bronze clouds with furious passion, fiery and red – set ablaze my falling sun. I dreamt of an ornament chalice, desiring to be filled and hoisted to thy lips, it wants to be emptied – though I am not strong enough.”
Misha:
“Oh, how much you have suffered to become so beautiful! I would kiss your feet beneath the earth and memorize the arches just as the grass moulds to them in memory! Where is the smile that caused the wrinkles on your face? Could you not dance, then sing, and I will raise my cup to your lips, and if then you lack strength – I will kiss my overflow into you. You were born beautiful and God-like in your laughter!”
Shayura:
“Mad-man, cup my cheek and feel the heat flowing from my heart, feel my yearning spirit tremble at your words fallen from thy lips. Passion would still my stance once more and steady my shaking hands. I turn my face towards a new stance, guise, and pose – unrecognizable to my youth yet familiar to my spirit. Kiss me, your overflow! So, I may choose once more my strength, my brilliance under a new morning star, let barefooted love be my wind – allow turning away be my only negation henceforth.”
Chorus:
“Eudaimonia! She is the vitality of gold, un-dulled and worthy of herself. Wearing her pride like the jewelry that hangs from her ears and rings on her hands. Her self-love is a lifetime romance, a longing for recognition. She will still dream, no doubt, of her tarnished gold and rotted flesh, but she has found strength – she turns away from it. Ailed no longer, she treads her path under a new sky adorned with playful clouds, her untruth.”
Misha:
“Crowd my solitude, for its vastness still requires conversation, for me to be man again. Show me your new face so I may recognize your flaws in awe of you… Walk through my field of sunshine and revelry so you may feel at home in your tarnished skin. Let your spirit bound over and bloom as in the fiery lilies I so love to watch grow. Command yourself! Become who you are – I will watch you as a lily.”
Copyright © Johan Belmont | Year Posted 2025
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