On the 9th of 9
On the 9th of 9 beneath a starry, moonlit sky,
Caressed by the cool night breeze from autumn’s infinite breath,
I wept in deep pain and uncertainty as the beginning of an impending and unclear truth swiftly unfolded.
With my eyes wholly closed and a final crystal tear rolling down my cheek,
I strove to, for the last time,
Bask in the beauty of memories birthed through scarlet’s code;
Memories that stake my heart,
Yet instill great strength and joy.
The flashback felt more like a dream than reality,
A hybrid sort of realistic fantasy based on fictitious reality;
As this final fantasy echoed her euphonious voice and challenging persona which so constantly trapped my helpless soul,
A huge gush of weakness bellowed through my wobbling legs,
And on my knees, betwixt sands of time,
I fell like the conquered knight I am:
Yes, the ‘Accursed White Knight’.
In peace and bliss,
Within helplessness and defeat,
With bow and sword in hand and land,
I instantly froze- still engulfed in the trance with my knees on Avalon’s ground and eyes tightly sealed- as the image of her pretty face,
Immaculate eyes brighter than the jewels of the night sky,
Hair straighter than silky clouds,
Skin fairer than chocolate and sunlight’s robes,
And dainty smile more devastating than that of Mona Lisa,
Was slowly veiled and faded into the dark…
Silence awoke, and my heart tore into pieces.
How sad it is that love so sweet could sting so bitterly,
That the essence of blithe and caring spirit could be shattered by nature, past, and agonizing undeservedness;
Though like a honey bee I’m forever lured to the scent of her nectar so sweet,
She and I cannot be,
For she dwells beyond me and my reach.
She is a precious flower with unique elegance,
A red rose amidst sharpened thorns,
Whose destiny daily eludes my soul through endless eternity.
- written on September 11th, 2015
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